A non-Afrikaans speaker through this had something to do with Spanish fast-food – the “senior burgers” bit – but, no, it is a parking receipt in two official languages, sort of. They ran out of space near the bottom. Its not exactly the most attractive or technically marvellous voucher available, buy, hey, it works! I will surely treasure this new-found freedom for as long as Blogspot survives.
AT A CERTAIN AGE, EVERYTHING IS AN EXTREME SPORT!
My birthday card is by Avanti Press at www.avantipress.com and being a look-up freak… I had a look:
The captions being, “Just remember, STRESSED spelled backwards is DESSERTS”, and “ Indulge! It’s your day, go ahead and milk it!”
When I was 17 it was a very good year; It was a very good year for small town girls; And soft summer nights, we’d hide from the lights; On the village green, when I was 17! Or so sang Frank Sinatra.
When I was 17, they said I should get a pension plan; Pay your money in now for when you’re 65. And they lied. And the so-called pension, which would look after us for out autumn years, turned out to be little more than a bad savings plan, which was eroded by inflation, sabotaged by global recessions, and which funded the brokers’ yachts and holiday mansions. And they lied. Or so I sang.
When I was 17, twenty-five was still a life-time away. 30 would never come and 40 was ancient – why be concerned about 65?
Suddenly I was 40, yet 65 was yet a quarter of a century away. It was still 13 years before they had invented Y2K! There was still plenty of time.
Suddenly, that’s all past, Y2K is a distant memory, a joke. Pension will probably never happen, at least like Grand-Dad knew it.
For my special day, last night we went to the Artscape in Cape Town (my first trip to the theatre in umpteen years, I guess!) to see “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”, which we had as a school set-work more than 50 years ago – I remembered so many of the lines!
Directed by Fred Abrahamse and costumes by Marcel Meyer, the play aimed particularly at Grade11 scholars features David Dennis (Bottom), Nicholas Andrews (Puck), Hanna Borthwick (Helena), Mdu Kweyama, James MacGregor (Lysander), Marcel Meyer (Oberon), Chi Mhende (Titania), Malefane Mosuhli, Sizwe Msutu, Luthando Mthi, Zondwa Njokweni (Hermia), Anelisa Phewa, Wiseman Sitole, and Sipho Vara.
And Oberon’s crucial “Having once this juice, I'll watch Titania when she is asleep, And drop the liquor of it in her eyes. The next thing then she waking looks upon, Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, On meddling monkey, or on busy ape, She shall pursue it with the soul of love.” And it turns out to be Bottom, the Ass (arse) with the donkey ears!
Shows you that education isn’t what it used to be.
Nevertheless, they had an interesting take on it using many black actors – all very good, though. They way in which they portrayed the fairies Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Mote and Mustardseed was different – they used bright green projected laser lights – quite effective and fairy-ish to boot.
Anyway, I was pleasantly introduced to pension-hood when we arrived at the parking garage entrance to the Artscape.
“Parking: R15.00. Pensioners on production of valid ID: R7.00” announced the sign.
The attendant was less than flattering, though, when I proffered my ID document as evidence, he simply grabbed my cash, with “No need, I can see that you qualify as a pensioner!”
The bugger! Anyway, the R3.00 change from the Tenner back in my palm was proof enough of the massive 53.33% discount given me without squabbles within my first day of real pension-hood.
What if I can save R8.00 on every R15.00 purchase? Shangri-La, I suppose. Mind you, Easter Bunny, Father Xmas, Right.. Fine, I get your point.
I can hardly wait for next week to see what the World will deliver for me – lots of things at huge discounts (I think that 65% would be fitting) and bunches of freebies wherever I go. I am waiting to see…
In bygone years, we have encouraged our wild “chicken chooks”, the Cape Francolins to dine near our patio – breakfast, lunchtime, suppertime, in-between snack time, they were game… well, forever what you feed them – we always tried to keep their diet natural and organic, but they insisted on eating whatever else they could find.
On the left is an adult hen, scientifically Francolinus capensis, or Pternistis capensis, also known as the Cape Spurfowl. In Afrikaans they are called the Kaapse fisant, the Dutch know them as Kaapse frankolijn, Francolin criard in French, and Francolim do Cabo to those who speak Portuguese.
Above three chicklets, hardly a couple of days old, behind a proud mother. The hatchlings can number anything up to a couple of dozen, but it is difficult to determine which chicks belongs to which hen, when they move round in big flocks of up to 30 birds. The neighbour’s cats already know that hunting adult francolins is not an option. You need to rush in, pounce, grab and run like hell while the adult birds are still trying to work out what has happened.
This year, we have tried a new tack. We watch them from a distance, without encouraging them to come to drop their droppings all over our patio floor, (sometimes even inside the house, if they get the chance of dashing in, in search of something to eat!)
I shot this video-ette last week, while they were sand-bathing in the shade of a heat-wave spell. At first, it took f-o-r-e-v-e-r to upload, so I tamed it down to this…
It is not much of a story. I was sitting on our patio for a while this afternoon watching the squadrons of pelican coming into to land on the Rietvlei and battling against the south-easter headwind, alternating between graceful wing-flaps and even more graceful gliding sessions. They generally travel in air-queues of 12 to 20 under a wing commander. This is the scene I saw when I went around the side of the building to see the colony starting to prepare for the overnight stay at their favourite little spot – it is almost a kilometre away, this pic is on full zoom. At last count, there were approximately 200 of these heavy aircraft creatures – what a sight, so close to our back door.
A wonderful bird is the pelican,
His mouth can hold more than his belly can,
He can hold in his beak,
Enough food for a week.
I'm damned if I know how the hell he can!
Apparently ascribed to Ogden Nash, but actually penned by American pressman and humourist by name of Dixon Lanier Merritt.
A wonderful bird is a Pelican,
Whose beak can hold more than his belly can.
Be it crabs, clams, or fish,
It will hold all you wish.
But I'm damned if I see how the hell he can.
House-hunting can be fun. Especially when it is in another country, and the styles and specifications are quite different to those to which one has been accustomed.
You start off with a budget maximum… ‘cos that’s the way money works – It has a tendency to shrink, shrivel, melt and drip away.
Then, among all the run-of-the-mill offerings, you spot something for sale, over there, just beyond the ferns and shrubs. Looks a bit grey, but hey, we’re house-hunting. Let’s take a shot..
Ten minutes later, huffing and puffing, 421, 422, 423 … I am counting the steps (under my non-existent breath). Oh, my oath, we’ve arrived!
It looks a teensy-weensy bit big for two people, but, after that clamber from down t-h-e-r-e … Let’s take a peek inside… Truth be told I need the R&R time before taking the plunge on the downhill run.
Hmmm, how about …. Perhaps one could make a go of a guest house out of the place. It’d mean a bit or effort, I s’pose – I get up at five, so that shouldn’t be a hassle.
Yes, and we could cater for International visitors from International places, with International money. Just not Greeks… or Portuguese… or Irish… or South Africans… Hang on a mo' – are there still countries left where the “austerity word” is not heard?
Hmmm. Mind you, the view from this deck is something to die for. My shortness of breath is sort-of reinforcing that silly statement.
Anyway, lets take a gander. Follow us. Mind that you wipe your feet first – there’s a blue carpet on the floor…
Yep, we’re in agreement – this could do as a guest house. Nicely.
I’m still not sure about my skills with the boats, though. You need a boat here, the old car just doesn’t perform much along the Trail.
We’ll just take a look down there again. There’s also the little matter of balancing the books. You know the asking price and the budget max… One always hopes that they are similar.
“You know, Mr Realestate, we’re quite keen – we’d need a day or two to consider, you understand.
We’ll also chat to the son and daughter-in-law. And the grand-children, ‘cos they love the outdoors like this. Tell us, what is the asking price, all in?”
“Gulp,” quirks Granny, quietly for once.
My comment is somewhat more abbreviated. I tend to be economical when it comes to wasting words. I manage a meaningful “Oh.”
But I do express it with passion. Great passion.
As we sail away into the sunset, we are at one. A super place, we’ll consider it for a while.
