#NABLOPOMO 14 – Grahamstown Training College

2015-11-14 | puppy1952

I was not exactly a high achiever at school but I knew that when I left I wanted to have something more than just a job – I wanted a career! I had my subject choices all mapped out for my Standard 9 and 10 years – English Afrikaans Accountancy Biology Typing and History. But then shock – horrow – they dropped Accountancy from the curriculum forcing me to choose Geography or Latin instead. Well my sense of direction is seriously faulty and I couldn’t have cared less about weather patterns,climate or the topography of the land so Geography was an absolutely no-no. I might have enjoyed Latin but I hadn’t taken it in the previous standards and so it was too late now! My parents investigated a number of other schools ‘up the line’ but none came up with better options and so they suggested I try for a commercial matric. That meant I would learn shorthand, typing, accounting and commerce in addition to my two languages. “After all,’ they said, “you will probably want to do a secretarial course after matric and this way you can go straight from school into a lucrative job. If you work hard and hone your skills you can command your salary and go anywhere in the world with you qualifications.” I’d already learned to type and I enjoyed Accountancy so perhaps they had a point. So off I went to Gardens Commercial School for the next two years. And I don’t regret it for one second. I became an expert typist, took down some rapid shorthand, aced my accountancy and ended up with a first class matric. BUT – I did not want to become a secretary. The call had come – to be a teacher!

In order to do apply I had to have a recommendation from my principal. “I want to apply to Cape Town Teacher’s Training College’ I said. He gave me a glowing testimonial but did not hold out much hope that I would be accepted – “They don’t take girls with a commercial matric,” he said – “Why don’t you consider becoming a commercial teacher instead – you’d handle the course brilliantly!” But I was adamant – “I don’t want to teach high school – I want to teach the little ones!”

He was right of course – CTTC refused me. Undaunted I decided to apply to Grahamstown and surprise, surprise they accepted me without hesitation! And as it turned out – this college was actually the best one in the country!

A handful of other Cape Town girls including my close friend, Ann – a year ahead of me – had to take the train at the beginning and end of each term. We would leave at 7 pm in the evening, change at De Aar where we usually met up with the Kimberly girls the next afternoon and then spend another night on the train arriving at 7 am the following morning. And we loved it – the fun and comeraderie made it all the more exciting.

College was great as everybody boarded in the four houses – Lincoln, Bangor, Canterbury and Winchester. There was great competition among the houses and a wonderful spirit of belonging. We were extremely well trained and instilled with an ethic that we have all maintained into old age.

Our founder, Mother Cecile, came to South Africa from England and started an orphanage and a school then a training school for pupil/teacher and finally in 1904 Grahamstown Training College was established to train teachers. Mother Cecile worked tirelessly and set a good example for all who followed. She died in her early forties.

Although the college closed in 1975, The Cape Town branch of the GTC Old Girls’ Guild celebrate Founder’s Day with a church service at Brook Chapel, Bishop’s School. We are a breed apart – and we range in age from 60 to 90+ Thanks to Bishop Christopher Gregorowski for conducting the service today and reminding us of the great work that Mother Cecile did for Education in The Eastern Cape in the early days.

After the service we enjoyed and wonderful tea and catch-up in the Staffroom – many thanks to Terry Wilke for once again allowing us to use the facilities at Bishops.

Old Girls arriving at Brook Chapel

On the left – a lecturer from 1952 and a student from the sixties

NABLOPOMO 13 – An Unexpected Treat

2015-11-13 | puppy1952

NABLOPOMO

Having recently relocated to a small town at the tip of Africa, I have neglected to find myself a hairdresser thinking, “When I go back to Cape Town, I’ll pop into my trusted young man who knows just how to handle my mop.” It is always a treat to see Johan. Not only is he an excellent stylist, but he has a knack of making one feel special. He always pays me a compliment even when my hair is in a sad state of neglect. After three months without a cut, I was sorely in need of his expertise with a pair of scissors.

After catching up on each other’s news he tentatively asked, “Are you doing anything tomorrow night?” Well he’s young enough to be my son so I knew he wasn’t angling for a date! “Not that I can think of right now,” I said “Why what’s up?”

“Well, I’ve started studying make-up and I have a lesson and no model – would you oblige?” Wow, Is the Pope Cathelic – “I’d love to,” I said. What girl doesn’t like to have her face done up for free?

I warned my dearly beloved that he would have to take me out for dinner afterwards so as not to waste my beauty watching TV for the rest of the evening.

Now I have been to a various beauticians and hairdressers in my long lifetime and although I love the sessions these experts can’t seem to help themselves from pointing out your flaws. “What have you done to your hair?” “Oh no – you don’t use eye cream?????” “Do you want to always wear a scarf when you’re older – then for Goodness sake use the neck cream!” “I do hope you use a mask at least once a week!”

Not so with, dear Johan. He only has lovely things to say and his teacher was just as complementary. I have looked in the mirror many times so I know the truth, but it was nice to hear – You have excellent skin and your eyes are a lovely shape. His teacher advised on the use of shades that would suit the older woman so as to soften the look (or not to make her look like a witch, I would say)

Usually I take exactly 2 minutes to do my make-up every morning. After the cleanse and moisturise routine – 30 seconds – I slap on the foundation, brush on some blush and colour the lips – that’s it! How long would a professional take – Try an hour and a half! And all the instructions of which brush to use, what colours to choose, how to get both eyes to look the same etc. etc.

First the hair is clipped back

Then the colour tested

And carefully applied

Now for the eys

Make sure both are the same

An artist at work

Tools of the trade

A very natural end result!

I felt like a queen when it was all done and thoroughly enjoyed dinner out with my darling hubby. Thanks Johan for a really lovely treat!

NABLOPOMO 12 – A Fundraiser with Pieter Dirk Uys

2015-11-12 | puppy1952

NABLOPOMO

It is my portfolio for the Bird Club to organise an annual fundraiser at Theatre on the Bay, Camps Bay. This year we had South Africa’s most famous satirist, Pieter Dirk Uys doing one of his hilarious one-man shows – An Audience with Pieter Dirk Eish.

It is mind boggling to watch him change, on stage, as he impersonates one well-known political figure or fictional personality to another, with just a simple costume and a touch of make up. But it’s his facial expressions and talent for mimicry that finally fool you into believing that he has actually turned into that character!

The audience was asked to ‘pick a box’ with a number on it and in this box would be the costume of one of the characters that he would impersonate. I was flattered when he called me by name to choose a box. I have been a Pieter Dirk Uys fan since his first show – Adapt or Die – and my favourite character is Nowell Fine – who was a Jewish liberal, Progressive Party supporter in her youth during the Apartheid Era. Her character has grown so that she is now a loyal supporter of everything in the New South Africa. So I was delighted when Box Number 15 which I asked for, revealed her costume. My favourite quote from her when asked why she doesn’t emigrate to ‘safer, crime-free country’ is “I’d rather be murdered in my bed than get up and make it!

All his characters were done brilliantly and we were in stitches as he wove stories around each one and how they’d affected the lives of South Africans over the 30+ years he has been doing his one-man shows. Although done with humour the lessons hit home. Pieter made us leave the theatre knowing there were some crazy things about our country but that there was plenty of good in it too. And it is with this positive attitude that we must all look forward to a better future.

After the show he came into the foyer and mixed and chatted with the audience. He encouraged everyone to take selfies with him. My hubbie and I also took some photographs with my camera. Hubby had been a class ahead of Pieter at primary school and they got to chatting about their old teachers.

I’m a big fan!

Hubby and Pieter Dirk Uys

Our chairperson with the Legendary Pieter Dirk

What a stunning evening and a wonderful way to raise funds for the Cape Bird Club’s conservation projects.

NABLOPOMO 11 Stuck in a tough spot

2015-11-11 | puppy1952

NABLOPOMO

The prompt for today – What was last thing you fixed or built.

Fix or build? No sorry – not me – I have two completely unco-ordinated hands that cannot even hold screw-driver correctly. I am not one of those liberated women who learns what goes on in the inside of a car engine and changes her own flat tyres without batting an eyelid. Not me, sweetheart – I’m more the type who would flutter the eyelashes, show a leg and look helpless on the side of the road – well not these days in this country – that would be a bit dangerous. But that’s why cell phones were invented! What’s wrong with calling one’s significant other in a sweet and helpless voice that says – come and rescue me!

It happened to my friend and me some years ago. We ventured out on our own to a lonely place where a series of ponds held myriads of amazing birds.

One of the ponds at Strandfontien

Our husbands were out in the deep blue sea – fishing! Then while chasing after some beautiful species – we took a road we should not have and found ourselves stuck in deep, soft sand!

Uh oh. There was not another car in sight. So we called the beloveds. Fortunately for us they were on their way home but were towing an enormous ski-boat so the wait would be long while they parked it in the driveway before they could come to the rescue. The problem now was explaining exactly where we were! We each had a story of a bird seen nearby when the our men were with us and that’s how we managed to get them to understand exactly where to find us two hours later. We enjoyed a long and girly chat and enjoyed the birds while we waited.

Cape Shovellers

Malachite Kingfisher

Purple Swamphen

Black winged stilt

When the guys arrived they really put on the super hero act and we oohed and aahed and praised their prowess and their marvellous skills of getting us out of tight spot! But what if they had still been at sea and what if some unsavoury had come along and caused a bigger problem? I am more careful about where I go alone now and have learned not to ride on roads where I might get stuck! Usually I have my own personal Macgyver when travelling in the bush -and boy – he can always make a plan!

#NABLOPOMO How to be a good Grandma!

2015-11-10 | puppy1952

NABLOPOMO

Why are Boys so different to Girls? Don’t answer that – It’s not exactly a rhetorical question because I’m sure there are many answers that people could give me. And having studied psychology and done lots of research on male and female brains, I actually should know the answer. Nevertheless, when in emotional mode, I don’t try to work out the answers, I just despair! I absolutely adore my male grandchildren – they make me laugh, they make me feel loved and appreciated, they are attentive and helpful but boy – are they hard work!

Raising three girls – two of whom were step – was a breeze compared to helping our oldest daughter raise her two boys. They’re 14 months apart and have lived with us since they were 4 months and 18 months old. I won’t go into the reasons why they turned up on our doorstep almost 17 years ago but believe me Life hasn’t been the same since! Hubby and I had just reached the stage when we were thinking – Life begins when the kids leave home and the Dog dies. And we had one 19 year-old kid and an aging dog and we were counting the days! Smother that thought – Boom – Back came the oldest with two tinies in tow!

I clearly remember saying to dear Hubby – I’m happy to have them – But I’m not doing night duty! I work and I’ve been there and done that and got the wrinkles! Ha! Famous last words. How do you sleep when a stressed out young mother with two non-sleeping babies is simply not coping? Flip me – you get up and help! “I’ll deal with Baby – you sort out Firstborn.” And that’s how we coped. On the very first night Firstborn roared until 11 pm. Within a week we got bedtime to 7. The only one who could get Baby down for the night was Gramps and Yes – we let him! Anything for peace and desperately needed rest! It was a matter of whatever worked we will do! But – wow – when they were awake it was action – all – the – time. They didn’t stop! My girls were never like that!

As they grew they tested every rule, pushed every boundary and argued every point. My girls were never like that! My girls were sweet and compliant and very obedient. Or rather that’s how I remember it. Maybe there was a little passive resistance. And I do remember complaining about them not getting their act together and telling me at the very last minute that they needed this or that for school. Well yes – there were a few issues – BUT IT WAS NOTHING LIKE RAISING STRONG WILLED HIGHLY ACTIVE BOYS!

I only potty-trained one of the girls – the baby as the other two I acquired when they were 10 and 12 years old. And it was a cinch – On her second birthday I told my baby what needed to be done and within a week there were no more nappies – day or night. “Don’t start too early,” I told our eldest with great authority on the subject. “Wait until they have enough language to understand and physical development to have control.” Ha! First of all their language skills were nil till 3 and secondly they did not care! We started at two and a half and it took till four to get rid of the night nappies!

And the noise – and the action – and the devastation. We still had the girls’ toys – a wicker doll’s pram being a prized possession. It was still in pristine condition after being gently being pushed by sweet little girls. But when the boys discovered it – Oh Boy – Teddy was placed inside and taken for the ride of his life doing wheelies and skidding and out of control spins up and down the passage into the garden until he was unceremoniously spilled out at great speed! Okay – that’s fine when it’s teddy – but when Big Brother thinks it will be fun to put Baby into the pram I thought there’d be broken bones and stitches and but instead there were squeals of excitement and hysterical laughter.

But there were the disasters too – and we had our fair share of visits to the Emergency Room which NEVER happened with the girls!

Now that they’re in their teens it’s not quite as noisy but I still have to yell – “Take it outside when they chase each other down the passage and round the house. When they were little we had to physically pull them apart when they fought but they calmed down and we seldom have them actually attack each other. On one occasion though there was a fist fight with blood all over the place which I was fortunately not home to witness – Gramps handled it extremely well. Firstborn lost it with Second born – and punched him on the nose – Result – BLOOD – Grandpa said to the younger – “go and bleed outside” and to the older – “get a mop and clean this up!”

Then he spoke to them calmly and said – This is not the way to solve disputes – Doing this can lead to prosecution for assault – how would you feel then. (the younger had also tried to whack his brother with a hockey stick)

When I arrived home they were both very subdued. I asked each how he felt – the younger said – I hate my brother. The older said – I feel bad but please don’t lecture me – Grandpa’s already done that! I told them this can’t happen again. By the evening they were friends again.

I am relieved to report that they have never had another serious fight since. But I dread to think what might happen if they both fall in love with the same girl!

It has been an amazing privilege to be so involved with the raising of our grandsons. We have been away from them now for just a few months. They are in Grade 11 and 12 and studying for exams. They younger takes it a tad more seriously than the older who is seriously dyslexic and ADHD – but still – they need to be coaxed into doing the work! My girls would be in stress mode for exams – not so these two – “Stop fussing Gran – it’s so easy – I’ll ace these tests!” Oh really? Then why don’t I see you at the books, Boys! If you can pass with so little work – imagine what you can do with a bit of effort!

I guess that I should be grateful that we’re not going through what some families go through during exam time – nerves and tears and fussing and dramas – Not my boys – their confidence, I suppose is to be admired!

#NABLOPOMO 9 I’m not too old.

2015-11-09 | puppy1952

NABLOPOMO

You hear it all the time – Age is just a number – it doesn’t mean a thing. Yeah Yeah – but I still wonder – when is ‘old’ going to happen? What is it that makes one old? Is it the colour of one’s hair? The changing shape of one’s body? The failing of one’s health? Or is it just in the eye of the beholder?

When I was a child I thought my grandparents were old. They were fit and healthy but to me grandparent meant old. And Granny used to say quite cheerfully – “I’m getting old you know my darling.” And I didn’t disagree. But my grandchildren – oh no – they don’t believe I’m old at all! Okay – so I was pretty young by modern standards when they were born – but I was the same age as my grandmother when she had grandchildren their age. Firstborn Grandson said to me one day when he was about 12 “Granny – all my friends’ grandmothers have grey hair – why don’t you have grey hair?”

“Oh but I do, my boy. I just have a very good hairdresser.” He was horrified – “You mean it’s died?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“So you mean you really are old?”

But I am afraid it did not bring about new respect. On the contrary – If I said – I can’t ride bikes with you anymore – I’m too old. He would reply – get real Gran of course you can! It’s a precedent, I’m afraid that I set – and now that they’re almost grown men they are still finding it hard to accept that Granny is getting on you know!

When they were in Primary School, I wrote this silly poem.

Over the Hill

I am getting older, I’m
nearly fifty five.

Over half a century I have
been alive.

I should be slowing down now,
and easing up my life.

I should be getting mellow
like every older wife.

But here I am a-peddling up
this bloody hill.

I hear my grandsons calling, their
voices loud and shrill.

You can make it Granny. You’re
really doing well.

(I do not want to tell them
that I almost fell.)

They think I am their
playmate. They think its rather fun

that Granny takes them
cycling when their homework’s done.

And as they dash through
puddles and do wheelies up the curb

they encourage me to follow;
but really that’s absurd!

They fall and seconds later
they’re back up on their bikes,

a band-aid heals their
scrapes but Granny falls, and yikes –

She needs a month of physio
to get her muscles right.

So falling off her bicycle
would not be very bright.

Now they’re heading down hill
at a break-neck speed.

Those boys are getting all
the adrenalin they need.

With screeching breaks I
follow at a calmer pace.

“Go Grandma”, calls a smart ass
Aloof, I turn my face.

I could be baking cookies, I
could be knitting socks.

Instead I join my grandsons
scrambling over rocks.

I could be watching T.V.
or at a ladies’ club.

Instead I join them hiking
when they go with the cubs.

I’m glad that I, a grandma
can still do all these things.

Being active with my
grandsons – oh what joy that brings.

We have such fun together out
in the cool fresh air.

And if people think it’s
funny – I really couldn’t care!

October 2007

Now climbing mountains with them is even scarier – Firstborn and Second born are 15 months apart in age and tower above me. They race up the mountain like mountain goats with no consideration for their safety and laugh at me when I tell them to please be careful. Their younger cousins, are not far behind either while I huff and puff and worry that I’m going to have to call emergency services to bring them down in a helicopter! When did this happen? I thought I was still fit but I can’t rock hop anymore!

But if this is old – that’s okay! They laugh at me now because I fuss about their safety but they still won’t let me off coming along for the fun. Aren’t I a lucky grandma!

Second and Fourth grandchild scary me silly

Second and Fourth grandchild scaring me silly

#NABLOPOMO 8 Life is Good

2015-11-08 | puppy1952

NABLOPOMO

It has been such a happy day today and it got me thinking about how lucky I have been in my life. Even though there have been hard times and struggles and days where I’ve thought I can’t do this anymore. But looking back nothing seems bad at all. Everything seems so worthwhile. Some things I used to stress over make me laugh now and I wonder why was I so fussed about it all! I am talking about raising kids of course. All that nagging and training and insisting on good manners and responsible attitudes – I took it all so seriously. That’s the great thing about being a grandparent – you’ve done it all and the kids turn out fine – well most of them do. I do know the most amazing parents who did everything right who’ve had little demons that turned bad and I am not one to blame the parents – there comes a point where the child has to take responsibility for the path he chooses! But when one’s child does make wrong choices in his adult life it is heart-breaking for the parent. How does one cope with that! Tough Love – that’s how. I strongly believe that you allow so much and no more. Let that adult child know – I’m here for you – but there are the rules. Allowing them to abuse you is not love. Giving in to their demands is destructive to you both. It is hard but there comes a time when you have to let them go their own way and then to move on with your own life because usually you’re not the only one affected and you are needed by other people in your life too.

But I am so lucky – my daughters and granddaughter are perfect and my grandboys are getting there – hey – boys take a little longer.

I had a good giggle when I saw this on Facebook this morning – this could have been written by me!

This has been the story of my life! But lucky for me my hubby catches the fish, cleans it and I don’t even have to cook it – he does that perfectly too. So he takes his rod and goes fishing and I take the gold card and go shopping!

Today was such a day – look at the happy faces of these two guys out on the boat.

My hubby on the boat with his mate, Tommy

While this fishing excursion was on the go, I took Baby Daughter and Second Grandson out for a bonding breakfast. I had not seen them in some time and had some catching up to do. I wanted First Grandson to come too but he was gamed out and sleeping it off so we left him at home. Hubby phoned to say he’d hooked enough food to feed half of African and that I should be sure to invite two couples over for dinner. Baby Daughter had plans for lunch so bade us farewell and off she went while Second Grandson and I finished the shopping – what a pleasure to have him as my assistant – he put all sorts of things in the basket that I might have forgotten – cupcakes being an example! But seriously – having a 17 year old push the trolley, pack the car then unpack it is such a privilege and saves an old lady’s back. And it’s all done with a smile. Then as I was setting the table I knocked one of the candles of the chandelier with the tablecloth and it broke. He rushed to my assistance and informed me that actually they were all dead and needed replacing – I wouldn’t have found this out till the evening – remember I’ve been away for 4 months! And hooray we had enough replacement candles which he changed for me and helped give the dusty chandelier a clean!

First Grandson was gaming – again. “I don’t need to study, Gran, I know my Physics.” No arguments – I just switched off the internet and said, “Then get an A, boytjie – Study some more” And he did! When Grandpa got home he asked him all kinds of questions about his work which he ‘knew’ and now ‘knows’ better! Yes I am a lucky gran!

Our guests arrived at 6:30 and what a great evening we had. It’s so good to get together with wonderful friends who have always been around in good times and bad. These are the kind of friends you hang onto forever. Some people come into your lives for a season and a reason and sometimes you’ll see them again and sometimes not. If you do it’s great if you don’t you’ve valued the time you did have and no regrets – but then there are those with whom you have a real bond and that is what I appreciate about the friends we had this evening. Always a pleasure to be together.

Enjoying the Braaied Yellowtail caught by Hubby

Oh yes – Life is Good – Very Good indeed.

And I’ve done this Blog 8 with two minutes to go before the end of this day!

#NABLOPOMO 7 Heading back to Cape Town for a week

2015-11-07 | puppy1952

NABLOPOMO

It’s Day 7 of NABLOPOMO and I am exhausted. So no great writings tonight!

Hubby and I packed up and came to our Cape Town home this morning leaving at 10:00 am. BUT there were huge delays with stop/go roadworks. There were at least four. At one we waited for 25 minutes and it was hot. We stopped for lunch at Peregrine Farm Coffee Shop which was lovely. We had a spinach and feta quiche. I scraped the filling off the crust to avoid the carbs. Another time delay was having to come the long way round there is storm damage on Baden Powell road. We were in two cars so I had to follow Hubby through some dicey, high crime areas to get home! He warned me to keep my doors locked but I didn’t feel threatened at all.

Obviously the universe was not smiling on us kindly because on our arrival we found the kids had changed the front door lock – it had been giving trouble – they were out so we couldn’t get in. A phone call later we had the number of the key and headed to the mall at break-neck speed hoping that the locksmith was still open. No luck – BUT – the little electrical shop in the mall that doesn’t sell keys just happened to have one. They were on the verge of closing so took our money but didn’t give us a cash slip. No problem – we had a way into our house!

After unpacking Hubby went off to meet his mate’s boat and helped him offload and take the fish to the seller. He brought home a lovely fresh yellow-tail and the two of us had sashimi for supper.

The cats were delighted to see us. The big one scoffed the fish but the little one had to been hand fed!

We will be here for a week as we have a few things we need to do:-

Sort out the caravan’s tarpaulins
Attend the Bird Club Fundraiser
Attend my College Founder’s Day reunion
Celebrate my birthday with my breakfast club
Go to Telkom to order a line for Struisbaai

The next interesting event in our lives will be a caravan trip to Addo Elephant Park.

I will do a better blog tomorrow!

#NABLOPOMO 6 Childhood Fears

2015-11-06 | puppy1952

NABLOPOMO

The Nablopomo prompt for today – What was your biggest fear as a child? Do you still have it today? If it went away, when did your feelings changes?

Did I have fears – oh yes I did. I was a child full of fear and worry.

The first fear that I actually remember is of a treasured ornament my mother had. It was a Toby Jug – a scary container in the shape of an old, animated face. Now I loved my grandmother – but this face reminded me of her and in my childish mind I imagined it was her but instead of being comforted I was scared silly and wondered where the rest of her was. I could not express this to my mother at the time, all I could do was cry and tremble and to this day I remember how terrified I was. It was fairly large and stood on the floor next to the door or on a low table, my memory is dim on the detail but I know that I could not walk past it without the terror gripping me. I remember her holding me on her lap and talking to me about the jug, reassuring me that it was just an inanimate object and nothing to be bothered about. Logic did not come into it and I just buried my head in her her soft,warm shoulder, refusing to look. Wisely this jug was put out of sight until I’d outgrown the fear! After my mother died it was sent to Baby Brother overseas but was broken in transit much to our distress.

Ours was similar to this!

I wonder why I had this next fear which I only vaguely remember now – probably because of the constant reminders about it. Driving through an avenue of trees scared me silly. I know I hated Fairy Tales and it was probably the thought of Hansel and Gretel lost in the woods and meeting the evil witch that did it! One wonders how such gruesome tales could ever have been told to innocent children though they’re mild compared to the monster stories the children of today lap up. Being the sensitive little innocent that I was those tales of witches fattening up little children for the pot had a damaging effect on me – no not really but it did colour my attitude toward stepmothers until I become one of those wicked creatures myself. Aha – then I started to think about it from her point of view. (No, I didn’t eat or try to poison my stepdaughters.)

Even worse – they had to share accommodation!

When I was about four years old I had a scary dream the like of which has never been repeated. There was a dark, spooky house behind the one in which we lived (in the dream) and I ventured into it only to encounter skeletons and ghosts and the scariest of monsters the images of which live with me to this day. How at four I could have dreamed up such a thing I do not know as there was no Television to infect my mind in 1957. I woke up screaming and my mother rushed in to comfort me. I told her every detail of the dream and she soothed me back to sleep. That was the best part of the experience and I can still smell here sleepiness and feel her warm softness as she held me close and settled me down. Yet when I reminded her of this dream when I was an adult, she had no recollection of it at all. A wise friend told me – well she had four children whose troubles she sorted you know – she’s not going to remember every one of them! So very true. I, myself, tend to suppress awful things that have happened to my children. My baby was very ill and when the doctor came to examine her he got down on his knees to examine her in her camp cot on my mother’s lounge floor. She reminded me of this when my daughter was about 10 and I simply couldn’t remember it! So weird what the mind retains and what it rejects!

Of course I outgrew my fears and today I don’t consider myself a fearful person other than when flying or sailing in small boats! But those I have control over. It’s up to me to fly or not or sail or not.

But fearing for my children, I have no control over. I send up a silent prayer for them every day and put the angels on duty to protect them. I call out to the universe to keep them all safe – that includes my daughters, their kids and my nieces and nephews and their kids. I cannot even bear to think that anything bad should happen to any of them. I don’t worry about who they will marry, where they will live or how they will conduct themselves in life – that is up to them. They are all beautiful and adorable and I just want them to live happy, healthy and very long lives. God bless them all.

#NABLOPOMO 5 Angels at Sea

2015-11-05 | puppy1952

NABLOPOMO

A drabble tells a story in exactly 100 words. It can be used in poetry or prose. I wrote this one when my hubby nearly drowned after falling off the back of the boat on which he was fishing.

Angels At Sea

He’s overboard in the icy choppiness of a darkening sea. Crashing waves and roaring winds drown his cries for help. He gulps litres of ocean and begins to drown. His finger’s broken; he can’t remove his sea-filled boots and soggy clothes but angels buoy him up.

At the harbour the skipper finds him gone. Distraught he turns to search the wide, dark, sea. Angels guide him to his mate.

He smells the diesel, hears the engines’ chug and sees the bright search light. Arms reach down and angels give them strength to yank him back aboard to fish another day.

#NABLOPOMO 4 Childhood career dreams

2015-11-04 | puppy1952

NABLOPOMO

I have now come to Day 4 of my daily blogging in November committment. I’ve decided to give the Quintella memories a break but might return there later. In the meantime I am using the NABLOPOMO prompt for today’s writing – “When you were a kid, did you want to have the same job or a different job than your parents when you grew up?”

Immediately “SHOES” come to mind. My father was a shoe man – he sold them as a travelling rep, then as a store manager until he opened his own stores in Fish Hoek where I grew up. My feet were always shod in the best quality shoes that he could afford. He cared about feet and what was place upon them. You have a healthy foot, he told me – a good instep but they’re too broad across the toes and two narrow at the heel. This made it difficult for me to find a good fit – but luckily Dad made sure I did so that my feet grew properly. But I diverse – did I want to follow a similar career? No I didn’t – but Big Brother worked in one of the shops he managed and so did Little Sister – from very tender ages too! Neither of them went into retail but I’m sure the work experience made them wealthier than me who shunned the idea of touching the feet of all and sundry.

Not for me thank you

No secretarial work sounded more attractive. Mom had been one before giving it up to raise a family of four lively kids. But it was not that which influence my dream. It was more the idea of it – dressing up in smart clothes and wearing high-heeled shoes while taking dictation seemed to be a very glamorous calling when I was about 9 years old. And Dad encouraged it – If you’re good at typing and shorthand, you’ll be in high demand and can command your salary were his words.

I fancied myself as a smart, efficient secretary

Dad brought an ancient Typewriter home and Little Sister and I had hours of fun playing office-office, banging away on its resistant keys, talking on a discarded telephone and busying ourselves with writing out accounts.

But then in my teens the “higher calling” ideas started to set in. I should do something worthy – becoming a missionary or a nurse or perhaps work in an home for orphaned children became my desire. I fancied myself as saviour of the underdog. Yes, I would be the Perfect Florence Nightingale, ministering to the sick and making a difference in their lives. So when I was sixteen, Mom encouraged me to first try it out during the Christmas Holidays. And that is how I landed up working as a nurse’s aid at the local hospital. How I loved the white nurse’s uniform complete with red cape – it made me feel very grown up and oh so worthy. But it was hard and dirty work. I learned to make a perfect hospital bed, to dust and clean the metal beds and side cabinets and to empty bedpans!

Not very glamorous work!

One of my patients was a young mother, terminally ill with cancer. The first time I held a bowl for her to vomit into, I almost vomited myself! I won’t even describe the things I had to do for her but the emotional attachment was the worst. To me the staff nurses seemed indifferent and callous – but was probably a professional barrier they’d learned to develop. I, on the other hand, ran immediately to answer the bell when the young mother rang. She complained bitterly about the nurses and if one of them did come to her she would ask for me and they were only too happy to let me deal with her as she could be ‘difficult’ Well wouldn’t you be if you were suffering like that, I asked them but they shrugged their shoulders.

She was skeletal and her pallor was yellow but before visiting hour she’d call me to help her put on her makeup and brush what little hair she had. “It doesn’t matter how ill or old you are,” she told me “You must always make an effort to look your best for your husband.” I’d do my best to make sure she was fresh and presentable, prop her up on her pillows and stay and chat till her family arrived. Her hubby was always smiley and pleased to see her and the children were adorable – quiet and well-behaved bringing cards and pictures they had drawn for her.

My heart ached for them and for her as I knew she was going to die. The pastor from the Methodist Church visited her every day and told me that at first she’d raged against God for what was happening to her but that now she was beginning to accept her fate.

I was not there when she died. It was in the middle of the night before I came on duty. The pastor was there when I arrived and it was he who broke the news to me – “She went peacefully, believing that Jesus had come for her.” he said. I never saw her family again, but still think about them and wonder how they dealt with their loss and whether her husband married again. I am pretty convinced that he did as he was still young and very good looking! I, myself, married a widower with two young daughters and having had this experience in my teens helped me to understand what they had gone through losing a wife and mother to cancer.

But I also had a joyful experience while working at the hospital. I was going about my duties when the sister called me – “One of the mommies in the maternity section is about to give birth – would you like to watch?” Would I – Oh yes please!

I had no idea what to expect – I certainly did not expect the emotions that welled up inside me when that beautiful little boy popped into the world. I experienced a miracle and the tears flowed – tears of wonder, joy and excitement and I didn’t even know them! It was a lady doctor who delivered the little boy and the mother was her daughter-in-law. She said she was delighted and honoured to be allowed to deliver her own grandchild. When she put the baby into her daughter-in-law’s arms, she said, “Ugh he’s so ugly.” And there I was blubbing and thinking he’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen! But then I hadn’t been through the pain of childbirth!

It was a shock to discover that this is now how they're delivered!

It was a shock to discover that this is not now how they’re delivered!

So after all that, did I become a nurse? Not a chance! I rethought all that and decided that all this worthy stuff was over-rated and that Teaching would be more appropriate to my skills. After all I could still wear the smart clothes, wear heels and pour out my love to the youngsters I taught and school-school was my favourite game!

That’s more my style!

#NABLOPOMO – Day 3 – More on Quintella

2015-11-03 | puppy1952

NABLOPOMO

Keeping a large garden with its many fruit trees, vegetable patches and flower beds required a great deal of pottering so it was as well that there were many hands to make light work. Grandpa also kept bees and so of course there was plenty of honey to spread on one’s bread. Being the kind of inventive and practical man that he was Gramps decided that he needed to sink a borehole to keep his property watered. Good idea – but was there any subterranean water on the plot? There was only one inexpensive way to find out – use a divining stick. And this is where Granny had a super power. She took the forked stick and walked all around the acre until she was brought almost to her knees with the force with which the stick told her that here there be water! And sure enough when they dug down an abundant supply was to be found and this was used to do all the watering of the vast garden.

Big Brother found some very old photographs, scanned them and emailed them to me. I mentioned the dog – Atom and here he is with my brother aged about 6 or 7.

Big Brother and Atom the fox terrier – Don’t you love his shoes!

Grandpa working under the pine tree

The house in the background – Big Brother standing in the area where the swing (out of sight) hung from the tall denne tree. – Note the cars of the day. It was a long driveway and there were a few visitors on this day.

The kitchen was the hub of the house and those who popped in for a chat and a cuppa simply sat at the table and were entertained right there. Granny always said, No matter where I serve my guests, it seems they like my kitchen best!

But the bathroom is what brings back the most vivid memories. You got to it through a door from the kitchen. It was narrow and had a ball and claw tub with a cold tap and a geyser in which we burend denne balls. A thin copper pipe allowed the water to flow, piping hot into the tub. When we were small all three of us older kids we bathed together and then taken out onto a wooden board, toweled dry and dusted with Johnson’s Baby Powder. The smoky smell of pine and powder will forever be in my nostrils.

The sun did shine a great deal at Quintella but I also remember the icy winter days when a huge fire would be lit in the enormous open hearth in the lounge which was furnished with huge comfy chairs. The pets – of which there were many – 7 cats at one stage and two or three dogs – would flop down on the mat and we the kids would flop down with them and watch the pictures in the flames, listen to Springbok Radio or read the comics that Uncle Toto got us weekly. Little Sister and I got Princess and School Friend while Big Brother enjoyed Beeno, Look and Learn and Knowledge.

During the school holidays, our cousins would be there too and we’d gather in the outside room where they slept and play Monopoly – and this game would last for days! Big Brother was always the banker. The cuzzies and I started off with great enthusiasm but somehow one or other of us ended up with the Go Directly to Jail Card and do not collect Two Hundred and while we were languishing there Little Sister with her savvy business mind bought up our properties so we could buy ourselves our or something like that. Big Brother was not far behind with his smooth talking and it was always he or she who won! I became so sick of this game that one day I threw in my charm and said – that’s it I’m never playing this game again and I never did! Today my siblings are hugely successful in business and perhaps playing Monopoly honed their skills.

Another place we used to play when the weather was bad was The Clubhouse. It was a wooden building that my grandfather built next the house and it bordered the fish pond. A youth club called the Plumstead Young People’s Association or Pypas used it weekly for their meetings. It was also used for Scottish Country Dancing and we used to love to watch them at it. Of course it was also great for family celebrations and I remember our grandparents having their Ruby Anniversary there.

In those days we still made a huge thing of 5 November – Guy Fawkes Day. Grandpa used to make a straw guy and burn him on a bonfire before giving us the most magnificent fireworks display ever. Big Brother and later Baby Brother used to love the big bangs but Little Sister and I contented ourselves with sparklers. Everything was beautifully controlled and Gramps ensured that we were all safe when he sent of rockets and spun catherine wheels and it all seemed to go on for hours!

The other big celebration was of course Christmas. What a magical time it was for us. There was a Big Christmas tree in the garden that Gramps put flashing, coloured lights on. Each year the neighbour’s kids all came to see it. Gran would cook a traditional Christmas dinner and there were tickies in the Christmas pudding! Gran’s custard was made with fresh eggs and milk and was the best in the world. A week or two before Christmas our big treat was to go to the city with Granny and Gramps and get a Lucky Dip from each Father Christmas in each Department Store – Garlicks, OK Bazaars, Suttafords and Woolworths. Then we’d go to the Wimpy in the OK Bazaars – it was the only time in the year we ever went out for a meal!

Our grandparents certainly shaped much of our lives but there is a poem that I have remembered throughout my life and often think of although I’d forgotten which grandparent or parent had first read it to us. Big Brother reminded me that it was Grandpa and that made perfect sense!

Abou Ben Adhem —by James Henry Leigh Hunt

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase)

Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,

And saw, within the moonlight in his room,

Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,

An angel writing in a book of gold:—

Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,

And to the presence in the room he said,

“What writest thou?”—The vision raised its head,

And with a look made of all sweet accord,

Answered, “The names of those who love the Lord.”

“And is mine one?” said Abou. “Nay, not so,”

Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,

But cheerly still; and said, “I pray thee, then,

Write me as one that loves his fellow men.”

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night

It came again with a great wakening light,

And showed the names whom love of God had blest,

And lo! Ben Adhem’s name led all the rest.

And Grandpa was certainly one who loved his fellow man and it’s his and Granny’s example that my siblings and I strive to follow. May they rest forever in peace.