JAYNE WITH A WHY

PHUCK IT, I'M A SNOB

2012-01-07T18:48:00.016+02:00

Having suffered - both mentally & physically - from 10 days in Tenerife, I have decided to admit to the world that I AM A SNOB (ner ner ner)

There................I've said it, so phuck the phallout.

I had a right stress on within hours of leaving the apartment on Banana Island (which isn't an island). Due to the mass exodus of expats and several thousand locals, we were advised to get to the airport early, as traffic was hectic and the road was bound to be clogged with people eager to escape their lovely surroundings *ahem*. We left with some 4hrs to spare before the eagerly anticipated flight to Madrid, with Iberia. We whiled away an hour by smoking and sweating profusely outside. It was better than inhaling the stench of stale urine and gawdawful body odour inside the terminal.

Then the fun started.

There was a rumour, our 'fixer' Nelson informed us, that the flight was going to be very late..........as in 'verrrrry late'.

Thinks to self : there goes the fucking - oops, I mean phucking - connection to Tenerife innit?

After much teeth-pulling from the ignorant beeyatch seated at the Iberia check-in counter, we were informed that the flight had been sort of cancelled...............sort of insomuchas it would be several hours late in arriving, but would not do the 'turn around' because there wasn't a replacement crew.

Phuck.

When asked what we were expected to do from the aforementioned beeyatch, we got the typical nose-picking induced shrug of the shoulders and blank look on the face that you just wanted to smack some bloody responsibility into. These imbiciles are paid to do a job, but when there's a problem, they want absolutely nothing to do with passengers. The beeyatch in question reluctantly said we could stay in a hotel in Lagos overnight and catch the flight the following day. No phucking good sweetheart, we got a connection to catch. Bitch!

After much to-ing and fro-ing, a hefty bribe and infinite pleading, we got the last 2 seats on the BA flight to London and then a connection to Madrid, but after that, it was a case of "well, yer on yer own now". To cut a long and frustrating story short, we got to Madrid, pleaded with a human Iberian booking officer and finally got to Tenerife some 27hrs after setting out, totally knackered.

The kids had arrived safely from Dublin and were sorted at the hotel. They had spent the day exploring. Chikkin almost knocked Hubs over when she ran to greet him..............hell that child grows like a Triffid I swear! The following day - Crimble Eve - was spent snapping up last minute gifts and trying to ignore what was becoming a dreaded feeling that the Playa de las Americas was not all that it was cracked up to be. The 4 star hotel where we were holed up, ran quite efficiently, until it came to the restaurant. Every single waitron had a phucking attitude, but y'know what, after seeing the behaviour of some of the tourists/holidaymakers, I'd also have an attitude. I don't think the scowls were aimed directly at us - altho' it's obviously a possibility - but more at the invading hordes of 'Benefit Bunnies'* that made their way to such a beautiful island. Mind you, on reflection, half the staff were foreign anyway and only a few of the phuckers would or could speak English. The floors in the entrance lobby were always nice and shiny tho'. I'd also like to admit that a real effort was made in sprucing the joint up with Crimble decorations.

Crimble came and went. Sight-seeing came and went. The disappointment in our surrounding grew.

I reckon I saw more camel-toed skanks, more middle-aged wimmin sporting 48EEE busts which dangled or bounced off of fat rolls - all the while trying to fight their way out of ill-fitting swimsuits (and gawd forbid, bikinis) - plus badly tattooed Eastern European pikeys, who thought going topless was the norm.........................I saw more of these types in just over a week, than I have in my fiftysomminc years. The men were just as bad - budgie smuggling Speedo's on a perma-tanned (including the soles of the feet nogal) 60yr old beer-guzzling-gut-hanging male specimen, just ain't sexy, as much as he might wish it to be. Apart from that, you can only tan so much can't you? Surely, your skin will reach the shade and texture of a leather handbag, and then it doesn't tan anymore?

Whilst doing a spot of people watching at the hotel pool area, I saw different extremes - from a couple dressed head to toe in black every day, to a really dodgy looking Eastern European couple, who seemed miffed that they couldn't really wander around nekkid and had to suffice with just having the tits out. There were definite Benefit Bunnies, complete with roll-up fags, a penchant for the cheapest alcohol on offer and bodies that tinged pink in a weak sun that poked through the clouds now & again. It was chilly for crying out loud - it was only 18C! A couple of times, I had the misfortune to be within hearing distance of some middle-aged sarong-straddled wench who was 'checking up' at home. "Are y'alrite luv? Yeah, yeah, it's smashing, it's right sunny & I'm gerrin' a nice tan but the food's norrupt'much". I was tempted to shout "I'll second that!"

Out on the street, there were times when we all felt like we had to run the gauntlet against so-called 'PR' people. These are the not-so-friendly folk who try to usher you into the bar/restaurant/niteclub they happen to be 'promoting'. One or two of them were friendly, but there were many who took liberties and pushed boundaries to the extent we thought someone was trying to kidnap Chikkin. That was downright scary. Foot traffic comprised of bunches of council estate-esque, buggy pushing slags from the likes of Dagenham - one hand clutching the bad hair extensions, the other guiding the 4yr old dummy-sucking brat in the designer buggy, with baggy arsed, beer swilling partner in tow, singing his favourite footie chant. Elderly men and women tootled around in their hired mobility scooters, wearing expressions that varied from 'get out of my way, I'm a cantankerous old git' to 'this beats walking any day'. On the whole, the majority of them looked as if they'd gone to Tenerife to have that last toe curling experience before popping their clogs. Sad, very sad. A Senegalise fake watch hawker offered Hubs anything from rip-off Gucci sunglasses to a prostitute (of any age or colour) to a line of white powder, which could be snorted. You name it and he could provide it. He was actually quite a nice chap, despite his trade.

I think one of the lasting impressions I have of a town like Playa de las Americas is of vomit. Wherever we walked, there were puddles of chunky, colourful vomit - some fairly fresh and some perhaps deposited from the previous evening. Even flies didn't buzz around over it, which I guess tells me that even they have a bit of taste. Four out of five of us had suffered with upset tummies and nausea, so I guess maybe we were the lucky ones, 'cos at least we didn't add to the barf on the streets. I honestly don't think restaurant or cafe hygiene - behind the scenes - is of a particularly high standard. I saw specialised water trucks washing down roads, but no attempt was made to clean up the vast quantities of splattered puke on pavements.

Shortly before leaving for the holiday, my mum told me her son had "been to Tenerife lots of times................he says it's really nice there". Little alarm bells went off in my head. It didn't take long for me to realise why.

Having watched the hilarious TV series 'Benidorm', I truly thought we would be 'away' from the Benefit Bunnies, being in Tenerife. I was wrong, very wrong.

I am a snob.

And proud of it.

* Benefit Bunnies: Those who live in the UK and think the closest thing to work is nutting down to the Post Office to collect their dole money, which the government is stupid enough to pay.

CRIMBLE - SUN, SAND & A CHIKKIN

2011-12-22T10:35:00.004+02:00

As mentioned in my previous post, the suitcases are once again packed.......................only this time, it's just for a holiday :-)

We leave here tonight & head off to Madrid, where we'll hang around for a few hours before catching a flight out to Tenerife. We arrive - no doubt knackered - mid-morning time, pick up a car & then drive down to the other airport, where we'll pick up Spadge, Mummy Shans & the best bit about everything - Chikkin! Crimble with family - how awesome is that!!

I believe Father Crimble is bringing all sorts of goodies, but because Tenerife is a bit out of the way from Dublin, he might have to drop a few things off at home, to be opened after the holiday. (In other words, certain airlines make it impossible to take gifts.)

My dad goes into hospital this morning (in the UK) for an angiogram. His ticker appears to be wearing out & slowing down & it's a worrying situation. I know you rarely look at this anymore Dubs, but if you do, just know that I love you both lotsanlotsalots & I'm waiting (impatiently) for a message to say Pup is OK. MPD.

To my regular readers & anyone who happens to stumble across my drivel, I wish you all a thoroughly splendid Crimble & wonderful New Year.

Best wishes, take care & may your God go with you.

Jayne

UNFINISHED OBSERVATIONS

2011-12-18T16:29:00.004+02:00

Over the past few weeks, I have come to realise that little, if anything in Lagos, actually gets finished.

I have also come to realise that Lagos - in particular - has it's own Time Zone, which is totally unique to the Outside World. One has to actually reside here to understand how this Time Zone works, because it comprises of another day in the week, which is commonly known as 'Tomorrow'. Tomorrow falls somewhere between Monday to Saturday, although no one can actually pinpoint when it actually starts or ends - it is simply 'there'. I've had text messages on my phone from someone who told me she was on her way to see me. Now, forgive me for thinking that the message actually meant this lady would be arriving within 30mins, as she was just a short distance away.................it's not an unnatural assumption is it? Silly me! The sender of the message pitched up 3 days later & wondered why I wasn't amused. If she'd sent a message saying she would see me 'tomorrow' I would've been a bit more understanding!

Before we moved into our apartment, I made arrangements to be there in order to accept delivery of certain household appliances & furniture. The usual wait was 5hrs, for a vehicle to travel no more than 20km. Repeated phone enquiries as to the trucks whereabouts would always be met by "the truck she is on the way". In real terms, the truck would be at least 30yrs old & no doubt be held together with bits of wire & packing tape. It would not have any form of suspension left & would chug out exhaust fumes thick enough to blind at least 4 cars which had the misfortune to follow it. The traffic is so horrendous it defies all attempts of logic & to make matters worse, at strategically awkward places, the police would hold up any form of flow, by pulling over cars for non-existant traffic violations. Argue all you want or pay the arsehole so that he can proceed to the next poor sucker. So, having probably paid 'dash' (a bribe) the truck would trundle off again, at a snails pace. Road surfaces alternate between tarmac or paving bricks. On tarred surfaces, speed bumps are added, to ensure one doesn't get smart ideas & put foot to whizz along at 18kmph. Should the road be paved, it is guaranteed to have collapsed in several places. This then becomes akin to an obstacle course, because whilst trying to avoid the collapse of the actual road, various uneven piles of old paving bricks will be stacked haphazardly towards & possibly nearby the kerb, which you can't see, because a car has broken down & a vintage truck has been propped up on old tyres/parts of tree-trunk/chunks of concrete, whilst the scraggy arse of a sweaty mechanic peeks out from the depths of a truly fucked engine. And all the time, in the background, is the sound of a dozen or more impatient drivers, fists on hooters, like it makes every problem go quicker.

So, as you can see, it can indeed take 5hrs for a delivery truck to negotiate the pitfalls of a mere 20km journey.

Getting back to unfinished things, the 2 photos below demonstrate my point about incomplete workmanship. In the first picture, you see a rectangular shaped lump of solid concrete. This is a drain cover. The drains run alongside roads & form part of pavements. They are a nightmare! I've seen teams of labourers heaving these slabs away from their rightful place, in order to clean out the drains, which clog regularly. The offending blockages are sometimes taken away, but more often than not, they're piled into putrid mounds at the side of the road & are left to rot away. In this instance though, it appears as if the drain has indeed been been cleaned, but someone neglected to put one of the slabs covering it back into place. Now, this is a pavement in an incredibly busy 'informal' shopping area, used by thousands of people every day & those thousands either avoid it, or trip arse over tit because they weren't looking where they were going. What really, really grates my tits, is the fact that this is 'normal' & totally acceptable.

A little bit further along & another slab has been left in the way of foot traffic. Since I took these photos last week, the walls have been given a fresh coat of paint.

After a much moaned about wait for an apartment, we finally moved into a really lovely spot on Banana Island, which isn't an island, but is on an island...............

We've had a few teething problems, which have been incredibly frustrating. Power outages happen just about every day without fail, but the compound has it's own very capable generators, which kick-in the moment the mainline power dies. This is great, naturally, because life without electricity is no fun. However, what we weren't told (initially) was that the power surges fuck up your electrical appliances. One very expensive 12kg washing machine* later, we have voltage regulators fitted to the main appliances & a UPS on the TV.

The photo (above) is the view we have from our apartment. S'nice innit? I've learnt to ignore the pylons & now use them as measuring devices....................first thing in the morning, the humidity is pretty staunch & visibility is ranked on how many pylons I can see in the distance! The photo below is of the fountains in the gardens...............awww.........nice colour innit!

So here I am, almost settled into the new spot & ready to start packing suitcases again, 'cos in a few days it'll be time to head to the airport & fly off into the night sky, to a place where we haven't been before.............................

* Hubs employer has paid for & provided everything for us :-)

AN UPDATE KINDA THING

2011-11-09T11:47:00.002+02:00

Greetings peeps, occasional readers of my drivel & fellow infidels etc. I know I've been slack with the posting, but it's been a tad difficult over the past coupla months. First off, we disconnected everything that could be disconnected in Ellisras/Laphalale/That-Gawdforsaken-Town-Full-of-Inbreeders in Limpopo, loaded up the gals (T2 & Eish - the Harleys - get with me here will ya!) & headed off into the sunset. This meant driving down to Joburg, dumping some excess luggage with a friend & then taking a slow drive down to East London. After a few days sorting out paperwork, relicensing The Beast (the Beemer) & the gals, meeting up with family & friends & then finally putting everything except ourselves & 50kgs of luggage into storage, we caught a flight back up to Joburg & then truly did head off into the sunset.

So, a coupla months down the line, after one amazing holiday & a fortnight in the best personalised hotel one could wish for, I now find myself in strange territory. I say strange, 'cos I've never been to this place before. I think one time I had a 'stopover' en route to my destination, but I never got off the plane & apart from that, I've slept since then & naturally can't remember much about it...............

Where am I you ask? Well, if y'all check on the left hand side of the page, just above my self portrait, you'll see that I'm currently gobsmacked in Nigeria.

I've said for donkeys years that there are 2 countries that I'll never live in. One is England (again) & the other, is Nigeria. The first - England - is because it is a manically depressing country, with grey weather & grey people who think the world owes them a favour. The politics suck, yet the population are too fucking scared to do anything about it. Should I ever have the misfortune to have to ever, ever live in England again, I fear I'll be arrested & thrown in jail for simply opening my mouth & voicing my opinion(s).

Hmph!

And Nigeria? Well, it's gained a worldwide reputation for being the home of 4-something-9 scams (I can never remember is its 409 or 419) amongst other highly dubious monetary theiving schemes. It has sent its ugly masterminds out into the big, wide world & set up drug cartels in major cities. Durban & Joburg city centres are run by Nigerians, who funnily enough, rarely get to feel the long arm of the law or be deported if convicted of serious crimes. Nigerians do not, on the whole, have a very good reputation. I did not want to ever want to live in a country that appeared to be run by criminals. I've lived in Ghana & it too is pretty corrupt, which I'm assuming it learnt from its neighbouring country. Mind you, the whole of Africa is fucking corrupt, so what else is new?

When Hubs first mentioned "Ummmm, wotcha fink about living in Nigeria?" I replied as eloquently as possible, "fuck off!".

Some weeks passed.

I was asked again.

Due to circumstances that defy the imagination & the fact that I'd been reduced to taking little pink pills to keep the sanity at bay & not let me make a mess with razor blades, I chose to hear Hubs out on the subject of maybe moving to Nigeria.

It sounded rather appealing I must admit.

Further discussions ensued.

An offer was made to Hubs & a decision was made.

Lagos, here we come!

So fast forward & here I am. Living in a hotel on Victoria Island at present. Hubs is being treated with a great deal of respect & his employer is appreciative of his knowledge & experience - unlike his old boss, who was jealous & insecure.

It's nice 'n warm - 28C-30C most days - but the humidity is a bit of a bugger at around 80% daily. There are potholes in roads in which you could lose an oil tanker & the moquitoes are big enough to carry off a small child. There is poverty, there is filth, there are men sporting faces with horrendous tribal scars, there are vehicles on the road that should've been crushed 5yrs ago, there are hawkers at traffic junctions selling plastic toilet seats & rolls of Mentos sweets.

It's Lagos & yours truly has arrived!

HERE, THERE & EVERYWHERE

2011-11-07T16:56:00.009+02:00

First off, a Top Secret* visit, followed by a visit to Spadge & his family in Ireland. As you can see, Chikkin has grown somewhat & is now in her 2nd year of school :-)

The waterfall shots were taken just outside of Terni. There's not alot happening in Terni & the tourists visiting the falls were more interested in preserving their hair than they were at taking in some stunning scenery. Arse'oles.

In no particular order (cos I can't be arsed) are shots of Rome, Ercolano, Pompei, Naples, Mount Versuvius (or rather the sculptures dotting the road up to the volcano, because who really wants to see a small mountain, with a hole in the top, that's not doing anything?), the Cinque Terra & in & around Vatican City.

This is a shot of Kusadasi, Turkey............a place we've been wanting to visit for quite a while. It was worth it :-)

And finally, this is the suite we had aboard the rather splendid Navigator of the Sea tub. It was rather luxurious I admit, but then Hubs has extremely good taste when it comes to spoiling us.

A rather good trip was had by Hubs & myself I must say. I collected a shitload more fridge magnets, a loathing for Italian breakfasts (who the hell starts their day with cake???) & a healthy respect for all things ancient.

I'm now in deepest, darkest Africa, where the mosquitoes are big enough to carry small children & the English is spoken with such a heavy local accent, that even lip reading fails.

I am back.

Bitching & blogging will commence shortly.

Stay tuned!

* Those who know me, know where & what it was all about *wink*

BUGG'RING AROUND

2011-09-19T22:51:00.002+02:00

Chikkin - butter wouldn't melt in her mouth right? (Wrong!!!)

Got her Grangrad twisted around her little finger!

.............and bugg'rin' around with Ouma :-)

The biggest pleasures in life often come in small packages. This is one of those pleasures & she's called Chikkin

:-D

HE SAID............................

2011-08-24T11:35:00.004+02:00

Hubs said "If you could have a holiday anywhere in the world, where would you like to go?"

I thought I'd just nut into me blog to let y'all know I'm out of the absolutely-gawd-forsaken-hellhole-filled-with-inbred-neanderthals............aka Ellisras/Lephalale. And seriously, I hope myself & Hubs will never have the misfortune to have to come back - I think I'd rather happily play with a very sharp razor blade.

We're off on a new adventure, to a place where I haven't got the fridge magnet.

In between times, we're taking some much needed psychological 'time-out' to get this hateful town & it's associated, much-fucked-up Medupi project out of our systems.

I'll be back sometime in November, insh'allah.

Be good & as always, do it quietly.

Jayne

CHIKKIN, THE BOY & MUMMY SHANS

2011-08-12T16:00:00.005+02:00

As mentioned in a previous post - sometime in May I think - Hubs & I were looking forward to having a holiday with our son (The Boy, aka Spadge), his wife (Mummy Shans) & The One & Only Lilly Mai (aka Chikkin).

Boy, how time flies!
The family has been & gone already.

I ain't goin' into the 'where we've been & what we've done' thing.................I'm just gonna say that our time together was absolutely awesome. Chikkin is now 5yrs & 8mths old (going on 17) & is a wonderfully happy child. She wakes up with a smile & falls asleep at night with happy thoughts to feed her dreams. The Boy & Mummy Shans are doing an amazing parenting job & I'm so proud of them.

The farewells in Joburg were kept short. Chikkin sat apart from us, wrapped in an invisible cloud of sadness. It was heartbreaking. I hate having to say goodbye, especially when we don't know when we'll get to see each other again, which at the moment, we don't.

Life goes on hey?

Here are some of my favourite photos taken during the holiday..................enjoy :-)

Going for a ride on T2

Chikkin lost her first tooth & the Tooth Fairy made her rich!

Mummy Shans & Chikkin having great fun!

The Boy

Father & Clone

Whilst in Pilgrims Rest, we took the opportunity to get an appropriate family photo done.

It's what memories are made of innit? :-D

THE TOWN IN WHICH I LIVE

2011-06-04T12:27:00.007+02:00

Location: A dorp (small town) in Limpopo Province, which suffers from an identity crisis.It is known by is original name of Ellisras & also by its all-new-politically-correct-name of Lephalale. I know it as either The Last Khaki Outpost or Schleppalale. It has most definitely earned both of my given nicknames, because the colour 'khaki' has remained in fashion for at least 40yrs & it is worn by people who tend to drive around in khaki coloured vehicles, who live on khaki themed game farms, where many a khaki coloured horned animal - primarily of the antelope family - is killed for fun and/or biltong. You can kill a beast by arrow or bullet, depending on your level of hunting experience, for about the same cost as a good night out in a major city. The alternate nickname of Schleppalale was given due to the towns location in this vast country of ours. Not many people know where it is (unless you're into killing animals for fun) & my given explanation on how to get here is usually along the lines of "head north, turn left & stop about 90km before you hit Botswana." Blank expressions turn into lightbulb moments when the recognition of our whereabouts hits the right brain cell. I really am not exaggerating when I say it's a bloody schlepp to get here.

~*~ My favourite bylaw (Bev) reckons The LKO is tucked away behind The Boerewors Curtain! ~*~

Due to the abundance of game farms in the area, many popular businesses are named after various wildlife species. A favourite watering hole & eating spot for 2 legged mammals (especially mentally challenged local Blue Bulls* supporters) is the KEG & Kudu. The KEG is a franchised pub/restaurant group in SA & we are blessed to have one situated in our neighbourhood suburb of Onverwaght. (For non-Saffies reading this, the pronounciation of Onverwaght is as follows: In SA, a 'v' is pronounced as an 'f' & a 'w' is pronounced as a (hard) 'v'. The 'gh' is easily pronounced, moreso if you happen to have a nice chunky lump of lungbutter at the back of your throat, which (naturally) needs hocking up. Therefore, Onverwaght is said as On-fur-va-ghhhh-ct. Simple innit? Kindly spit or swallow lungbutter after pronounciation, thank you.) Getting back to the KEG & Kudu, I have to admit that the food is extremely good, they serve Kilkennys (which keeps Hubs happy) & apart from afore-mentioned local Blue Bulls supporters, is a nice place in which to unwind, after an especially stressful day at work.

Local knowledge can be appreciated, especially when one does not know where specific places are. There is a well known spot referred to simply as 'Oom Potties'. Every khaki-clad local & his Rottweiler knows where 'Oom Potties' is, which excluded us, when we were invited to go for a ride one Sunday morning. When we said we had no idea where 'Oom Potties' was, the simple directions of "head out of town (towards Botswana) & ride straight for exactly 50kays. Oom Potties is on the right hand side." And sod me, if the directions weren't spot on! Oom Potties is what can only be described as an old fashioned trading store, where you can buy a packet of fags, the local newspaper, a can of pilchards & a bottle of Klippies**. The store is run by a husband & wife couple, who welcome bikers & strangers alike. They have a resident tarantula spider, who appears to be quite happy living amongst the vygie plant boxes. The trading store borders the rather magnificent Fahad Private Game Reserve, which as one can guess, is owned by some particularly rich member of the Sandpit Royal family.

Some 60 odd kilometers from town, one can turn left at Marken & head towards what was known as Potgietersrus & is now known as Makopane. It's a stunning riding road & this is the view at the bottom of a lovely mountain pass. It would be so much better if the fuckwitted historically disadvanted local cattle herder didn't let his cattle roam in the road. There's no fucking grass growing in the middle of the tarmac, so I fail to see the appeal of cattle taking an afternoon stroll. There are some nasty accidents on this particular road, due mainly to idiotic bovines & the more-than-often drunk driver. Gotta admit, it still makes a wicked ride!
On this road, as well as the road to 'Oom Potties', one can see impala, zebra, giraffe & kudu bordering each side of the tarmac. If one is lucky, you may also see small 'families' of warthogs, knees down, munching on grass. If one is unlucky, one may see skid marks and/or the splattered remains of a warthog who thought it was clever to step out the long grass & into oncoming traffic. They're dangerous little fuckers, even if they do taste good on a braai.

Back in town, there are small enclaves of well-known brand shops, of which Edgars is one, where you can buy incredibly over-priced clothing, cosmetics, bedding & a cellphone on credit. What isn't very well known is that there are a few expats in the area, who cling (desperately at times, I have to admit) to their collective sense of humour. Edgars, being terribly politically correct, placed an advertising board outside of their store last Eid. It was the 'green light' moment for myself & 2 other wimmin friends who have lived in the Middle East, to don our abayas & niqabs & hit the town.............woohooo! I have to admit there was many a sloped foreheaded, eyes-way-too-close-together local who quite literally stopped in his/her tracks when they saw us. Being totally anonymous, no one had any idea as to who we were & the facial reactions of the Khaki brigade were truly priceless. I suspect there were a few mutterings in the KEG that evening, along with probable suspicions that Osama bin Laden was quite possibly holed up in a rather upmarket private game reserve nearby Oom Potties.

Thanks to the influx of some 8,000 new inhabitants - here to construct the much needed Medupi power station - Schleppalale has found itself in the midst of a housing boom. New housing compounds & gated communities have sprung up like mushrooms. Building contractors & sub-contractors jumped on the get-rich-quick projects & threw up houses in a hurry. Within 2yrs, many of these houses have serious safety issues & things like ceilings caving in & walls falling over have become common knowledge. Sadly, just because apartheid was abolished 17yrs ago, the forced integration of races of our Rainbow Nation really hasn't gone down very well. Shove mixed races together in small gated communites - after donkeys years of segregation - & man, you've got a recipe for tension. I have historically disadvantaged neighbours on 3 sides & for the most part, have no complaint about them. One family, on the opposite side of the road & a couple of houses down, typifies what many white Saffies dread & dare I say, despise. The 'man of the house' drives a new 5 series Beemer & is probably in his position of employment because he's the 2nd cousin to the brother-in-law of the local ANC appointed mayor. The wimmin of the house sit on milk crates in the garage (doors open) & despite sitting within 2m of each other, shout their conversations. The kids - one little bitch in particular - screams like there is no tomorrow. Adults cannot converse quietly & the spawn do not know how to play happily. Once in a while, a relative pitches up & upon arrival, opens the doors to his smacked up car & turns his sound system up. We cannot complain, because we will be hauled before some disciplinary committee & labelled racist. I don't give a shit what colour your skin is - respect is colour blind! A little bit of respect goes a long way, but sitting on your milk crates, blasting the street with your music & letting your offspring scream incessantly for several hours each day, will simply earn you the much used term of being a 'K***ir With A Barclaycard'.

Within a fortnight of arriving in The Last Khaki Outpost - almost 2yrs ago now - Hubs & myself were told by a prominent businesswoman, that 'we' - meaning the newbies to the area - weren't welcome. 'We' brought with us more crime, more traffic, more taxis & more historically disadvantaged inhabitants. No, we were most definitely not welcome. Fast forward almost 2yrs & the towns population has grown by almost 10,000 & there is a dire need for more retail outlets & in particular, well known 'brand' stores. The aforementioned local businesswoman must be shitting herself now, because despite coining it for around 20yrs, she's going to be losing a shitload of trade, thanks to the building of a new shopping mall. It really is Big News in this area. In approximately 18mths time, locals won't have to travel between 200-300km to buy things that are simply unobtainable here. The biggest news is that Woolworths*** is going to have a food store - huzzah! There are expat wives here drooling at the mere mention of Woollies food products & the prospect of being able to buy sed foodstuff locally ranks along the lines of a good shagging. Thankfully, I won't be here to see the opening of the mall. Oh yeah, before I forget, there's allegedly going to be a cinema complex in the New Mall. Oh my gawd, Ellisras really is being dragged into the 21st century!

Now, believe it or not, there are a few positive things I can say about living here. Less than 10mins drive from the town centre, there is a game farm which doesn't have the standard obligatory 'come & kill animals' attraction................no.............this game farm, managed & run by a really nice mid-European couple of old-timers, offers nothing more than a walk through the bush. There are 2 guided walks available - a 'flat' walk & a 'hill' walk. I've done both & can state quite categorically that whoever came up with the description of 'flat' walk is a bloody liar! I traipsed up & down hills, over boulders & through some pretty dense bush & the only 'flat' bit was the couple of hundred metre walk back to the starting point. I'm not shy in admitting I was knackered at the end of the 2hr jaunt, but hell, I enjoyed it - on both occasions. I quite literally took 'time out to smell the roses' - even though there weren't any - but paused on many occasion to look at the simple things that form just a tiny part of what Mother Nature has to offer. Simple things like a spider web stretched between branches, hyaena droppings, a sun-bleached skull & horns of an old kudu & small herds of impala who would stare for a second or two & then scarper in taunting delight. I came across 5 giraffe, quite happily munching on the tastiest leaves at treetop height & marvelled at how they could glide through dense bush with minimal noise. All within a couple of metres from a main road & all for the price of less than a pub lunch. (Spot the giraffe in the photo?)

Finally, one other good thing about living here, is the proximity to the Tropic of Capricorn. In real terms, it gets fucking hot in summer, but now, in winter, we have cold mornings & evenings, but lovely, sunny days, with an average temperature in the mid 20C's. We have straight roads - in good condition with the exception of one - ideal for biking. Urban legends are made from stuff like kudu jumping game fences & landing on a car bonnet (hey, 200kg free biltong guys!) & warthog or porcupines coming second in a fight with oncoming headlights ("man, I've got porciupine quills in my radiator!"). We have the most stunning view of unspoilt bushland for as far as the eye can see.

If it wasn't for the Medupi project, bringing its influx of workers to the area, the locals of the much clinged to town of Ellisras, could go back to living in their little world, which seemed to have got stuck somewhere around 1973. Unfortunately for them, we came along & fucked it all up.

* The Blue Bulls are a prominent South African rugby team. I suspect they may have some talented players, as they frequently win major Southern Hemisphere trophies. Unfortunately, their supporters consist mainly of neanderthals with very small brains. They are obnoxious to say the least.

** Klippies - a fond term for Klipdrift, a well known South African brandy. Drank in vast quantities by Blue Bulls supporters, who are fondly known as "1,2,3's" - 1ltr Klippies, 2ltr Coke & 3ltr 1985 Ford Cortina.

*** Woolworths. Trades in the UK as Marks & Spencers. Normally has quality clothing products made by poorly paid Romanians. Food is pukka & is the only shop I know of in SA which sells genuine pork pies & proper crumpets. Retail prices may involve having to negotiate the sale of future children and/or grandchildren. It ain't cheap to do your grocery shopping at Woolies, but bugger, it's worth it!

KRUGER PARK PHOTO QUICKIE

2011-05-24T13:36:00.006+02:00

Sunset

Footprints in the sand

Croc (miming "come to me!")

Extremely dark giraffe (L)

Ma & Bub

Indecisive Waterbuck

Waterbuck actually in the water - first time I've seen that!

Buffalo

More buffalo - the HDD* in the car ploughed into the herd.

Vulture - waiting for breakfast methinks.

As always, it was wonderful to get away to the Park again. The last time we went - in April - we saw a total of 17 rhino, but this time we didn't see one, so it really is the luck of the draw. A couple of interesting things; we saw a few zebra actually climbing up a huge termite mound to nibble fresh sprigs of grass & the waterbuck in the photos actually went in the water, which we've never seen before. Anyone would think they were allergic to it though, as their hooves barely touched the surface & it was so comical to watch. For whatever reason, a small herd of elephant that were hovering around a particular area were extremely aggressive. The matriach wasn't a problem, but several young bulls had a right strop & mock charged anything (including us) within a 15m radius. Something had spooked them - no idea what - and they stayed spooked for several hours. We made it back to camp with about 3mins to spare!

I know it takes all sorts to make the world turn, but I just wish the idiots would stay out of places like the Kruger National Park. One particular bunch of morons took it upon themselves to sit on the grass at dusk, underneath a bat box in the camp & yell "Ja, kom, kom!" up into the soon-to-be night sky. To the best of my knowledge, a bat isn't a domesticated animal, so it's hardly going to respond to someone calling to it like an owner to his/her pet dog. The same bunch of morons took it upon themselves to crush the tranquility of the camp, by shouting out the score - at regular intervals - of a rugby match being played elsewhere in the country. Just picture it............thatched roof rondavels set out in a semi-circle........couples & families cooking the evening meal on the braai........the sound of night insects & occasional 'barking' of hippos in the river nearby............all of that peace & tranquility absolutely shattered into a million fragments by a fucking idiot, who just had to yell out rugby scores. Blue Bull** supporters shouldn't be allowed to leave the greater Pretoria region for any reason!

On that happy note, I'll get myself off, to start on the 2nd instalment (bitchfest) of Africa Bike Week. (The first part is on the other blog)

*HDD - Historically Disadvantaged Dipshit

**Blue Bulls - A local rugby team comprising mainly of boneheads.

JUST A QUICKIE...............

2011-05-17T23:07:00.002+02:00

I know I've got an awful lot of catching up to do, but it'll have to wait until next week! Hubs & I are off to the Kruger National Park (I know, again!) for a few days of doing sod all except watching heaps of aminals :-)

Photos will no doubt follow.

Be good & do it quietly while I'm away y'hear!

SO WHERE WAS I? OH YEAH..................SHIT TO A BLANKET

2011-05-12T15:42:00.001+02:00

Hello possums, didja miss me?

Well, things here in Schleppalale are pretty much the same, although I have managed to pull myself towards myself & snap out of the terrid black mood I was in. I'd been trying for almost 2wks to put another post up here, but fucking Blogger kept informing me I was performing an illegal action. I just thought "oh bollocks, I can't be arsed with this" & opened Another Blog. I've only put 2 posts up so far & am not sure whether to continue with it, import it into this blog or sommer delete it. I've also started writing posts for a biker website so my sludge is being kept active, just for a change!

Hubs & I went down to Margate for Africa Bike Week - I'm in the process of bitching all about it on The Other Blog so drop by & check it out. At the moment Hubs has been grounded at home, thanks to our historically disadvantaged masses causing a heap of shit on site. This gives a brief explanation of what went on. I'm sick to fucking death of all the crap that's flying around at the moment. We're having municipal elections next week & from the way the political parties are slinging mud at each other, you'd think this country was 6ft under already. (I'd hazard a guess & say we're only about 4ft down, but I'm of the opinion that the ANC will only be happy when they've completely ruined the country.)

Other news is that Spadge, Mummy Shans & The One & Only Chikkin are coming over for a holiday in July & I'm soooo excited! I haven't seen my baby boy & his family for almost 18mths - way too long :-(

Whilst I may not have been posting, I have been reading other blogs. Apart from taking the piss out of me about the Harleys, Wreckless has done a couple of posts just recently regarding retailers trying to rip him off. The man deserves a medal for sticking to his guns!

Finally, for my wimmin reader(s?) - something that I don't know whether to complain or compliment about! I look like a bag of snakes (even in the worst lighting) but most days, I wear 2 articles of make-up; mascara & lipstick. I can't be arsed with things like foundation or blusher or eye shadow, but I do like a bit of lippy. A couple of years ago, I changed to Revlons Colorstay lipsticks, the ones you brush on - as opposed to drawing on, if ya know what I mean........

This lipstick sticks like shit to a blanket honestly! Up until just over a year ago, I sikkled like hell to get the bloody stuff off at the end of the day. I bought different brands of make-up removing wipes but none of them worked properly - they took the mascara off properly - but not the lipstick. I'd rub & rub until my lips were sore! Then an acquaintance told me to use baby oil & bugger me, it works like a charm!

So, whilst it may be a good thing that this lipstick stays on all through eating, drinking, snogging etc *ahem* etc, it's in no bloody hurry to come off, unless you know how!

Right, that's it, I'm outta here, cos the ol' man is taking me out for dinner, so I need an hour to get tarted up innit.................

APATHY

2011-03-10T09:20:00.000+02:00

I used to be apathetic, but now I couldn't care less.

I'm on an almighty downer.

I have no inspiration for writing.

My light might be on, but there's no one home.

This blog is on hold until further notice.

CATHY

2011-02-17T14:32:00.000+02:00

"I'll come & pick you up at about 8.30am" she said.

"No worries, I'll be ready" I replied.

The following morning, Cathy pitched up at my house, a few minutes early. I gathered my stuff - kissed Hubs goodbye - and off we set on the drive to Thabazimbi, some 140km away.

It was a drive that I'm sure Cathy thought - or hoped - she wouldn't have to do any more. The last time she'd done the trip was with her husband George last November. Less than a month after that, George died unexpectedly.

Cathy saw her oncologist last month for a check-up. He'd given her a 'break' over the festive period & she looked forward to going 2 months without chemotherapy. Physically, she looked better than ever. Psychologically, she mourned the loss of someone whom she refers to as "my Lovely". She had her first Christmas & New Year without him & naturally, it was depressing. Hubs & I saw her the day we got back from our Crimble trip & despite the sadness, she was doing well.

As the weeks into the new year have progressed, I've grown to admire Cathy's inner strength. She's had to deal with the paperwork & beaurocracy of George's death & now, after the check-up with the oncologist, will have to endure another 4 rounds of chemo. When she told me there was still one "small, small" tumour left on her liver, it was said in a matter of fact way, in as much as "oh bugger, I forget to buy eggs when I was out shopping". Nothing phases her - at least on the outside. I offered to go with her to Thabazimbi & as weird as it may seem, I'm pleased she accepted my offer. So, off we set, on the 'Chemo Road'.

It was an uneventful trip, bar the 3 horses that were cantering frantically in the middle of the road. They'd somehow got loose from a nearby farm & were obviously distressed & lost. We slowed right down, as did other vehicles thankfully. We arrived at the private hospital in Thabazimbi at the appointed time & there were hugs & kisses for Cathy from the staff she has got to know well over the past year.

We waited for the chemo to arrive.

Phone calls were made................the stuff had been ordered & was promised for delivery to the hospital for 9.30am.

We waited some more.

More phone calls were made.

2hrs went by & excuses made by the courier company charged with delivering the chemo ranged from the driver not knowing where Thabazimbi was to "well we are part of the transport strike you know". So fucking typical nowadays in this country - the majority of employees have Teflon shoulders* & tough tits if their work isn't performed with even a hint of efficiency.

It takes on average, 4hrs for Cathy to have the chemo. By 12 noon when the stuff hadn't arrived, she told the doctor & nurse that it would be too late to have the treatment. The cancer 'clinic' is only at Thabazimbi once every 3wks, so Cathy suggested she had the treatment at a further clinic (Rustenburg, another 130km away) later in the week. This would mean driving to Rustenburg, having the treatment, staying overnight & then driving home again. It's not only inconvenient, but bloody expensive with the current price of petrol. Having said that, she didn't mind doing it, if it was what was needed to be done.

Just as she was making arrangements to have the treatment done in Rustenburg, the courier driver sauntered in. After several minutes of discussion, the doctor said he could 'fast track' the drip to make sure we could leave at a reasonable hour. (Leaving the hospital any time after 4.30pm just isn't a good idea. Despite it being an almost decent road, it is lined by game farms & as the days light fades, it becomes difficult to drive. Many accidents happen due to baboons, kudu, impala or warthog wandering aimlessly in the road.)

Cathy agreed to have the chemo, so the doctor put the needle in & cranked her up. First off was a bag of stuff to take away the feeling of nausea. Once that finished, she had 4 bags of the Chemo Cocktail, followed by a final & additional bag of anti-nausea stuff.

I'd wondered about what I could do to take Cathy's mind off the treatment & ended up taking our 'travelling' blackjack & poker game. I must admit I'm not too clued up on poker, but I do know how to play blackjack, so I dealt us both 2 hands each & proceeded to teach Cathy the joys of the game - ha! Neither of us broke the bank, but we did have a bit of fun & I genuinely think I managed to take her mind off of the treatment.

The drip speed was twice that of normal, so 2 & a bit hours later, my poor friend was as white as a sheet & thoroughly shattered. We thanked the nursing staff, climbed in the car & I drove us home. We got home just after 4pm & as she left my house to go to her own home, Cathy said she had one hellova headache brewing, but insisted she was OK.

I phoned her the following day to see how she was.

"Ag no man, I'm fine!" she said. She didn't/couldn't sleep the previous night, but took pills for the headache & in the morning, went to work at a local home-industry shop.

On our trip back from Thabazimbi, I told Cathy that I admired her. She gave me a bit of a sideways look, as if to say "don't be bloody daft" - but I carried on & told her that I'd never come across a woman with such inner strength. She hasn't had an easy life, but in the last 6yrs has survived breast cancer, liver cancer & the sudden death of her husband of less than 2yrs. Yet despite these major knocks, she picks herself up & carries on, because she must, because she wants to.

And because, as she says, she has to.

I wish I had her strength.
*
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*
*
*
*
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* Many moons ago, on a construction site in the depths of this disease ridden, poverty stricken Dark Continent, a local man approached a foreman on the job.
"Eh.......eh..........I want job" he said.
"Do you want a job, or do you want to work?" asked the foreman.
"Eh..........no.......eh........I want job" said the local "not wek".

And that dear readers, is what we have in South Africa today.

AGE IS JUST A NUMBER

2011-02-04T13:28:00.000+02:00

Well, that much is true!

Today, I turned 53yrs of age.

That's a half a century PLUS three friggin years.

It's old, bordering on ancient!

My bones are starting to creak & my joints ache.

But, y'know what?

The minute I climb aboard T2, I forget my age :-)

Fair, Fat & Fifty-somminc is fine with me.

THAT THING, PASSED ON BY A MAN WHO MAKES HAGGIS PIES

2011-01-24T09:53:00.000+02:00

Keefie in Spain, an ex-Sandpit resident now gaining notoriarty for knocking out some rather amazing home-made pies from his suburban cortijo in Madrid, has passed the equivalent of a Blogging candle which won't blow out, over to me.

Here goes.....................my replies to the questions are not legally binding, may contain nuts & definitely involve vast stretches of me being in a dwaal*.

1. If you blog anonymously, are you happy with this? If you aren't anonymous, do you wish you started out anonymously so that you could be anonymous now?

Yes.

I have considered starting another 'take no prisoners' blog, but being a dumb blonde (which costs alot of money to maintain I might add) the technological advances of current times tend to scare me into thinking persons of unknown origin, dressed in khaki, bearing recycled Mauser shotguns, might see fit to scour every nook, cranny & illegal tuisnywerheid* in Schlepalale & cart me away for bringing the town into disrepute.

2. Describe an incident that describes your stubborn side.

Gawd almighty, there ain't enough time to start on that! If I ask Hubs, it may end up in me doing a blog post requesting financial assistance for legal and/or hospital fees!

3. What do you see when you really look at yourself in the mirror?

I s'pose it all depends on the time of the day really. Mostly, I see a shape resembling a bag of snakes, with blue eyes. I don't particularly like me, so I don't exactly like looking at me in a mirror. 'Nuff sed.

4. What is your favourite summer cold drink?

I'll drink a mega (strong) capuccino with cream any day of the year. Favoured cold drinks are iced lemon tea or a beer shandy, especially after a long ride on T2.

5. When you take time for yourself, what do you do?

Play mind-numbing games on my computer/try & remember what I have to do/wonder what day of the week it is...............

6. Is there something that you still want to accomplish in your life?

The one priority is to maintain my insanity, preferably for another 62wks, unless there's a Change of Plan. I would like to learn to ride a bike myself, but I know my limitations & want to ride a TriGlide***, as opposed to any other Harley. I need the training wheels - or rather - I'd feel happier on a TriGlide.

7. When you attended school, were you the class clown, the class overachiever, the shy person or always ditching?

I've slept since I left school.............gawd...........that was a bloody long time ago! *click whirrrrr click whirrrr (thinking)* I think I was just a normal kinda school kid, although because of my size (I've never been little) no one ever messed with me. I positively loathed maths & loved English language & literature.

8. If you close your eyes and want to visualize a very poignant moment in your life, what do you see.

A wretched time in my life when I thought that an act of revenge would bring me satisfaction. It didn't, in any way, shape or form - all it did was hurt the ones that I loved & myself, more.

9. Is it easy for you to share your true self in your blog, or are you more comfortable writing posts about other people and events?

I do tend to share quite a bit about myself, but having said that, there are only a few very close people who know the real me. If I were to perhaps bash out a coupla thousand words about how I was feeling at a particular time, I reckon I'd get a few comments asking who the hell wrote the post. Circumstances that piss on my battery get written about. My trips out & about on the hawg get written about & sometimes I'll write about my physical health, but mainly, alot of what goes on in the sludge cranium, stays in the sludge cranium. (a straightjacket will clash with my leathers y'know)

10. If you had the choice to sit down and read a book or talk on the phone, which would you do and why?

Read a book! Talking on the phone takes effort in concentration - something which occurs in nano-second bursts about once a fortnight, if I'm lucky. Conversations using Skype normally involve me playing mahjong whilst listening. I've learnt to adapt over the years, thanks to living in some remote places...............I neither long to make calls or receive them. A book doesn't answer back, demand attention or hang up at the most inconvenient moment, so yeah, I'll take a book over a phone call any day!

That's it then innit!

My nominees for keeping the candle burning are :

M and J Adventures - nzm - Fab friends whom I met in The Sandpit & of whose photographic skills I'm most envious of!

Wreckless EuroAfrican - A fellow Saffie, who lives in the real suburbia & would be happier if his employer paid him an outstanding bonus.

Electro-Kevin - A rather talented guitar playing train driver in the YewKay, who is easily mistaken for (the) Edge from the band U2, except he's actually better looking.

* Dwaal - daydream

**Tuisnywerheid - (pronounced tace-nay-ver-'ade) - a 'home industry shop', which sells cakes & cookies baked by ladies sporting blue-rinse, back-combed hairstyles, who refuse to speak English & peer at you down their nose & over their glasses which were issued shortly before 1948. Sed shops & ladies can be found in any backwater-stuck-in-1973-town like Schlepalale.

***Harley Davidson TriGlide - trike. It's on my wish list if anyone wants to donate one to me!

DEFINING SMUG (or when I'd like to nail a hugger to his friggin tree)

2011-01-11T10:25:00.000+02:00

Just recently, I read a blog post which left me with a real mixed bag of emotions. I've been a follower of this particular blog for a couple of years now. I guess my interest in the blog relates to my early working life in South Africa. Hundreds of years ago, I was a nurse - or should I say - a trainee nurse, so a South African medical based blog tends to hold my interest.

In the latest post, Dokotela Bongi really brought home the horror of what some of our doctors have to cope with on a daily basis. In his latest post, Doc Bongi was informed by an alleged 'friend' that he was smug. The friend can't seem to comprehend why Doc Bongi doesn't have any sympathy or understanding for the violators of certain crimes, the results of which, end up on Bongi's operating table.

The following paragraph is from this post:

i remember the baby violated by her uncle. i was just a house doctor, but i had to examine her. the pediatrician couldn't face it. it is quite a thing to see the perineum of a four month old after it has been ripped apart by the penis of one of the people my friend understands so well. faeces runs out of the vagina. it leaves a mark on the soul. but worse than that is the cry. the child did not scream anymore. i think it used up all its scream for its entire life during the deed. all that was left was a quiet constant moan. it is the ghostly moan of someone who has learned in her four month existence that there is no one who will come to her aid. there is no one to understand her. it will never leave me. my friend who is quick to understand the violator will call me smug, but may i suggest i might just be jaded?

The alleged 'friend' will no doubt be quick to leap to this particular violators defense, by perhaps explaining that the myth of having sex with a 'pure' female will cure AIDS, which is STILL circulating amongst the masses of our 'historically disadvantaged' population. The myth is heard, it's acted upon & Dokotela Bongi is one of the people who has to try & 'fix' the result. Surprisingly, the 'myth' of raping a baby or toddler (as a cure for Mother Nature's way of thinning the population), has now extended to the raping of elderly females, particularly grandmothers. The supposed logic behind this is that they must also be 'pure' because they've lived for so long. It's sickening, truly, truly sickening. Yet when a violent crime is committed - one that will leave an innocent persons life in physical & psychological tatters, certain individuals bleat that we should sympathise with the criminal who committed the crime.

To Dokotela Bongi's tree hugging, ultra-liberal, living-in-a-dreamworld 'friend', I would like to suggest he assists - just for one day - in the emergency room of a major hospital. Maybe, after he faces the husband of the woman who has been gang-raped, he could hold his hand & explain to him that really, it's not the rapists fault. Perhaps he could comfort the parents of a 2yr old little girl, who will never have the opportunity to bear children of her own. Surgeons had to perform a hysterectomy & because the damage was so violent, their little girl will have a colostomy bag for the rest of her life. Maybe he could persuade the 80yr old farmers wife not to press charges against the criminals who hijacked her husband, stabbed him repeatedly & then left him on the side of the road, to bleed to death, because really, in his opinion, the criminals weren't to blame.

We're all entitled to our opinions - I understand that, but for someone to call Dokotela Bongi 'smug', in part I'm assuming, because the poor doc has seen more than his fair share of horror, simply defies my understanding. Bongi, like so many of our doctors, deserves more than a medal. He deserves respect. He deserves all manner of congratulations for an amazing job well done. What he doesn't deserve, is to be labelled as 'smug'. Read this post & you'll see what I mean.

2011.............SIXTY FIVE WEEKS & COUNTING

2011-01-04T11:28:00.000+02:00

So how was your Crimble & New Year hmmm? I hope y'all had a good time - including those who ate too much & drank to excess to the extent that you woke up in strange places & possibly incriminating circumstances - huzzah!

My own Crimble was very quiet, altho' I confess, I drank more alcohol this 'festive' period than I have done over the last 10yrs. On Crimble Day, I thought I'd live dangerously & ordered a pina colada from the hotel bar............only to be told "eish meddem, sorry but we don't have any pineapple juice". Instead I had a shot of Malibu in a glass of milk & it was fuckin' 'orrible, but I drank it. I dunno if it was the heat & humidity, but my poor ol' kidney pipes were taking strain, so every night, I was downing 2 cans of beer - made into a long shandy I might add - but I'm telling you, anymore than 2 beers & I would've been anybodys.............................needless to say, after 4 days, my pipes were clear :-)

Here follows a few of my favourite photos taken during our rides out & the latter part of the hols spent in the Kruger National Park.

T2 - taken on the way up Long Tom Pass, not far from Sabie.

Gods Window near Graskop - the clouds just didn't want to clear *sigh*

The Pinnacle - just past Gods Window

T2 at the top of the road out of Barberton, heading to Piggs Peak, Swaziland.

One Man & Our Bike...................hell yeah!!

Day spa for ellies, near Letaba, KNP

Naughty minkeys, Skukuza, KNP

Balancing rocks..............somewhere between Olifants & Letaba (I think)

Potential handbag/pair of boots/Harley seat - dirt road just out of Olifants camp.

Elephant grabbing a quick shower.

I haven't made any resolutions for this year, mainly 'cos I can't be arsed & I rarely stick to 'em anyway. I think the main thing is I'll continue this year much the same as I did the last year & that's counting the weeks until we get the hell out of this miserable friggin' town. We have A PLAN *ahem*, which in itself is taking quite a bit of planning. There are some 65 weeks & 4 days to go before The Plan comes into effect - but who's counting? The only delay to The Plan coming into effect will be ill health or Hubs being offered a job that's too good to refuse (we can only hope!).

Right, I'm off to lissen to the Jamey Johnson CD that the kids organised me for Crimble.................my kinda music :-)

CRIMBLE

2010-12-14T15:21:00.000+02:00

'Tis that time of year again, when the masses drive themselves silly, trying to get the right gift for the right person, when some families will be so excited at the chance to see other family members from distant lands & other families will get the hell outta Dodge, just to make sure they don't have to suffer yet another embarrassing scene, courtesy of Auntie Agnes letting rip with several choice farts at the most inappropriate moment.

For Hubs & myself, it's going to be a rather quiet Crimble, with no family & no friends, but we're OK with that. (sobs hysterically into her coffee cup) This year, we shall be loading up T2 on the trailer & heading off to the (former) Eastern Transvaal. We'll be staying in a couple of nice hotels (so we're told) where we'll park up, perhaps chill by the pool or take a ride out to favourite scenic spots. It's time to unwind, after a particularly shitty year. The last 5 days of the break will be spent in the Kruger National Park, which is - to us - always the place to re-charge deflated batteries. I'm looking forward to good hotels, good riding (hell yeah!) & no fucking alarm clock.

Our year has ended on a really sad note, with the death of a good friend. We met George & Kathy early this year, through the love of bikes. We'd been to rallies, fundraising events & went on various rides with them. George was a real 'rough diamond' but one hellova genuine bloke. He loved life, love Kathy & loved his 'Glide in equal proportions I reckon. He had major surgery in August & recovered really well. He was back on his bike as soon as he was fit enough to ride. A coupla weeks ago, he went to the Poison Rally in Rustenburg, with a bunch of other riders from the area. From what we were told, he complained of a constant pain, like that of indigestion. He got home from the rally, but later that same night, was taken to hospital, where he died just a few hours later, from a massive heart attack.

We've all said, that hell, if he had been pissed, or maybe got wiped out in an accident, we could maybe understand it, but dying of a heart attack has left us all with the feeling that he was 'robbed' from us. It just ain't fair.

George's funeral was on Friday & it was an incredibly sad event. Bikers from far & wide came to pay tribute to a man who was loved by all. We gave him a good send off tho' & right now, I reckon he's riding his Hawg on an eternal freeway, where there are no traffic cops, no speed limits & he can ride with the wind in his hair :-)

George van Oudtshoorn, friend, biker & treasured 'rough diamond'

To fellow Bloggers, friends, family & anyone who stops by to read my drivel, I wish you all a Happy Crimble & blessed New Year. Take care, ride safe & remember, do it quietly!

DEFINING FRUSTRATION

2010-12-08T11:44:00.000+02:00

I admit I've been slack in posting............I'm not trying to make excuses, but I have just been so incredibly frustrated of late, that I could sit down & weep buckets full of self-pitying tears. Somehow, I don't think my weeping or wailing will solve any of the frustrations - in fact, I think I'll probably end up sinking even deeper into the depths of my misery. (Thank you Hubs & fellow blogger Wreckless EuroAfrican for nagging me into action again!)

A great deal of my frustration lies with my current town of abode. In the 'old days' it was called Ellisras. In the 'new days' it is called Lephalale. I call it either the Last Khaki Outpost (it must surely take first prize in colour-coded modes of dress - anything you fancy, so long as it's khaki...........it's like living in the Magic Kingdom again, where a woman can have any shade of abaya, so long as it's black!) or Schleppalale, because one finds, most people sommer schlepp through the bloody place. Some are even lucky enough to not have to come back! (I have a sneaking suspicion that the song Hotel California was written with Ellisras in mind). The town has, in a nutshell, a somewhat dubious character of schitzophrenic proportions, because a heap of people don't know what the town is called, or even where it is.

It is a town that mirrors small town Alabama, where inbreeders thrive & local kudu tend to have a nervous disposition (that's because they're killed for fun). It is a town that, over the past 18mths, has been inundated with an additional influx of 'outsiders', who have the misfortune to be trapped here, due to the largest construction project on this Dark Continent.

Prior to the arrival of us 'outsiders', the town's economy relied primarily on the game hunting industry. People from various parts of SA & indeed, other countries of the world, came here to kill wild animals - for fun. There are more taxidermists than there are fast food outlets.

So, due to the influx of 'outsiders', it became very obvious - in a very short space of time - that the town & it's infrastructure couldn't actually cope. Which leads me to one of my biggest frustrations.

Unlike other democratic countries (stop laughing!) we have one supplier/installer/provider of landline telephones, called Telkom.

It has, over the years, flogged off tiny bits of itself to other companies, in an a piss-poor attempt to prove that it isn't a monopoly on the telecommunications industry. When it comes to providing landline telephones & ADSL provisions in a town like this, well, I think the often used phrase of "I'll get pregnant before that happens" certainly rings true (pun fully intended). When I first arrived here last August, I discovered that A) there wasn't a Telkom office, B) the Post Office (tied in with Telkom) hadn't had a phone application form for years & C) there was a 12mth list to get onto the actual Waiting List of approximately 2yrs to apply for a landline phone. In other words, new residents were well & truly fucked.

Plan B - there's always a Plan B when living in Africa - meant the only other form of connectivity with the Outside World - i.e. anywhere outside the borders of Schleppalale - is to use ones cell phone, which is fine (albeit hellish expensive) but not much use when one needs to use the internet for more than 10mins, without having to auction a kidney to pay for the transaction. Another option for obtaining the internet in this area is a 3G connection gadget, which has limited use & tends to work in a mode offering the speed of a garden snail. It helped - I admit - for a few months, but it became increasingly frustrating when you could be halfway through downloading a particular matter of importance, only to have a little icon pop up, telling you that there was only so many kilobytes left before it required yet another expensive top up.

And then I discovered an internet service provider, who boasted it didn't need a landline for connectivity & who could provide a 24/7 service at a monthly fee which wouldn't require me to sell off certain body parts to the highest bidder.

I paid a rather large chunk of money to this ISP & a man came out to the house & fitted all the necessary bits of gadgetry/wires/cables etc in order for us to be connected to the World Wide Web. Huzzah Telkom! Go screw your landline!

Initially, the service worked competently enough. I could communicate with the outside world. I could do my banking/blogging/shopping etc etc. Every now & again, the service 'went down' but the down time wasn't too inconvenient.

Until...............................

A rather nasty thunderstorm.

And a particularly nasty bolt of lightening hit The Tower.

The Tower is the thing that hosts the Server of our ISP.

Telkom owns The Tower & 'leases' out space for other ISP's.

And Telkom is in no hurry to fix it's Tower. It has made temporary repairs, but they are in no apparant hurry to fix the problem(s) properly.

Which means my internet connection is up & down faster than a whores knickers.

Which means I can't download stuff I need.

Which means I can't talk to my family on Skype without getting cut off 10 times during a 30minute conversation.

Which means I have been half-way through credit card transactions & been left hanging like a Pierrepoint cock-up.

It means I'm frustrated.

Very fucking frustrated.

I'm expected to pay up nearly a thousand bucks a month for a service I'm not provided with. The term 'kak en betaal' (translated = shit & pay) should be this towns motto. So much emphasis is placed on the use of the internet nowadays, but in Schleppalale, you're s'posed to feel fucking priviledged for having an on/off service.

*sigh*

My other frustrations all amount to living here basically. Friends are leaving (I miss you Pam!!!) local supermarkets stock an item & then don't re-stock it again for months on end, the potholes & extremely dangerous road conditions leading into/out of the town to major cities like Pretoria or Joburg, now leave us quite literally with a sense of dread if we have to travel & gawd forbid, if someone needs to actually find our house, well, all I can do is direct them from the Police station, because just about anyone knows where that is!

The local municipality has placed much emphasis on the re-marking of parking slots outside of shops, but it can't find it in it's budget to put up street signs - fuck no, that's way too technical! New housing complexes have sprung up like mushrooms, but they don't have visible names or indicators. Hubs & I were the first people to move into the complex where we are, some 16mths ago. There is no street sign & there is no sign on the complex, indicating its actual name. The complex is now full & like us, I'm sure other residents have to go into great detail to explain where they live. But hey, lets demarcate parking slots on the main street!

I'm frustrated because I've had to make an appointment to have a mammogram done whilst we're on holiday. No medical facility in this town has the correct machine to perform such a test. If the roads weren't so bad, I would've gone down to Joburg or Pretoria for the test. The basic infrastructure of this country is falling to bloody pieces but the government insists on sucking ever increasing taxes out of us, yet they don't fix any of the problems. Whoopie for the Gautrain! Whoopie for Medupi! Whoopie for hosting a successful Soccer World Cup!

Now how about fixing the fucking roads? How about prosecuting employees who steal from state hospitals & other such insistutions? How about getting rid of all of the corrupt municipality bosses? How about allowing free enterprise instead of expecting us to simply shut-up & put up with the absolute bollocks that we have to contend with on a daily basis?

I am so looking forward to getting out of here over the Crimble shut-down period!

FEELIN' GOOD

2010-11-09T12:49:00.000+02:00

This photo was taken just a coupla days ago. We were on our way, with several other bikers, to the 'Brille en Pille'* fundraising event, held in Makopane**.

The weather was great. The roads were pretty empty (with the exception of Makopane town centre, gawd almighty!) & the scenery along the way is always much appreciated. We had a great day out & got back knackered, but feelin' good.

The following day, Hubs & myself, along with a bunch of riders from a local bike club, gathered at a local supermarket. Armed with collection tins for the local SPCA, we cajoled shoppers to part with any spare change they had. Quips of "R50 for dogs, 20 cents for cats!" & "We have YOUR photo"*** raised plenty of laughs. I'm not sure how much was raised, but I have a feeling it was a pretty decent amount, along with the many bags of dog & cat food.

Today, I finally got around to doing something I've been meaning to do for weeks. I've just finished writing (by hand nogal!) some (hopefully) inspirational quotes on pretty cards & note paper. The envelopes have no names on them, as I don't know the intended recipients, but hopefully, the words I've written will inspire strength, courage & hope for a better future.

Some months ago, I was contacted by the Durban HOG Chapter, who asked all LOH (Ladies of Harley) to help in the Jes Foord Foundation Handbag Project. I'm not sure if Jes's case made international headlines or not - as this is a South African incident - but in a nutshell, Jes was out with her dad, walking their dogs at a dam. Four scumbags attacked them, tied her dad to a tree & then forced him to watch the gang-rape of his daughter. This disgusting, hateful & vicious attack would've destroyed many a young woman, but Jes has risen above it & refuses to be just another rape statistic - in her words - she is a survivor.

As a result of her ordeal, Jes set up her own foundation & this is the basic request for help:

Jes is asking for good condition handbags i.e. ones you no longer use or ones you may have received as a gift but will never use. Not only ladies handbags but children’s and men’s backpacks as it is not only women that are raped.
One of the things a rape survivor does not get told is that they have to leave their panties and whatever else they are wearing e.g. shorts, jeans, skirt etc with the District Surgeon.
Jes is collecting the bags and in each bag she will have put the following: (obviously it would be greatly appreciated if you could hand in a bag with a few items but, even an empty handbag is of great help and Jes will fill it)
Panties
Liquid soap (wash away the negativity)
Body cream
Sanitary pads
Face cloth
Lipstick
Chocolate
And a little gift e.g. when Mr Price has their sales, buy some earrings, a bracelet or whatever you feel would be a ‘light’ at this awful time. Anything to make them feel special!

For children:
Nappies
Small teddy bear

BUT, THE MOST IMPORTANT FEATURE IN THIS HANDBAG IS: - Please would each of you write a note to the survivor. Jes said it can be a few words or an essay but something from your heart to theirs. For example, even if you write something like “No matter what has happened you are special, and please don’t let anyone take that away from you. You can, and will, get through this. There are so many people who really care and will help you gain your strength. This gift is given to you with love from Louise”. When you are at your lowest, just receiving the bag with all the goodies, a simple gift that can give you hope, and hope is a fundamental step in recovery.

Just so you are aware, Jes monitors the bags she hands to the police stations very carefully (i.e. they will be sealed in a plastic bag and numbered) and a register will be kept. Approximately 10 bags will be given to each police station with the request that when they are down to their last two, to let Jes know so more will be supplied.

I spoke to a couple of friends here in Schleppalale & they donated stuff to add to mine. So, in closing, today I've filled a box with a soft cuddly teddy, a dolly with sweets & accessories, sanitary pads, ladies panties, face cloths, kiddies panties, T-shirt & shorts, lipgloss & lipstick, chocolate, soap, liquid soap, deoderants, body spray, body lotion, shampoo, 6 pairs of earrings, a handbag, plus a rucksack, mens deoderant & disposable razors.

My box is ready to post & I gotta tell ya, I feel good!

* Brille en Pille - basic translation is glasses & pills

** Makopane - formerly known as Potgietersrus

*** Aimed at the sour faced, miserable gits, dressed in their 'look at me' Sunday best, having come straight from church.

TIME TO CHILL

2010-11-02T16:24:00.000+02:00

Hubs & I took off on Thursday for a bit of Chillin' Time. We spent Thursday night at Montecasino, which was most enjoyable - even if we didn't win anything - and on Friday morning, headed out to Mpumalanga, or more specifically, the Kruger National Park. There's just something about that place that makes you totally chill

out & I gotta say, we enjoyed every minute!

Here are a few of the photos we took - some 'up close & personal' & others from a distance. Enjoy :-)

(The shots are still their original size, so if you click on them, you'll get the full shot)

These are a few of my favourite photos from the weekend.

PERSIL WON'T WASH IN THIS TOWN

2010-10-27T12:24:00.000+02:00

There is a town, in the Northern Cape, which until recently, held a mystery for a very good friend of mine. This friend moved to the town earlier this year & as a stranger to the area, my friend took the time to drive around & become acquainted with shops & streets.

It didn't take long for my friend to notice something rather strange, when driving around the suburban streets.

In various houses, my friend noticed a box of washing powder placed strategically in the front windows. It was a rather unusual thing to come across, because after all, the majority of us wimmin tend to keep the laundry detergent either under the sink or in the actual laundry...................so naturally, my friend was curious.

In some windows, there would be a box of Omo & in other windows, a box of Skip.

After several months of absolute curiosity, my friend plucked up the courage to ask a local inhabitant of the town.

"What's with the washing powder in the windows of peoples houses?" my friend enquired.

"Ahhh, well it's like a code" replied the local.

"Code for what?" asked my friend - whose curiosity had grown considerably!

"Well, the easiest way to explain it is there's like a wife-swapping club in this town. If a guy drving by sees Omo in the window, it means 'Old Man's Out' & the coast is clear for a bit of nooky. If he sees Skip in the window, it means the husband is home & he must 'skip' on by!"

Now y'all know!

And by the way, this is 100% true.

AIRPORTS - GREAT FOR PEOPLE WATCHING

2010-10-13T13:16:00.000+02:00

Airports can be strange places. You can see a whole range of emotions on travellers faces, or on those who have come to say goodbye to friends or family.

We had a 5hr wait for our flight out of Tegel airport in Berlin & some of the things I saw that day, seem to have stayed in my mind.

One of those instances was of a mother with a toddler, at the airport to say goodbye to her husband/partner & father of the child. The man had already passed through the check-in counter had come to stand at the glass wall that separates passengers from the rest of the public. He was knelt down, close to the ground & on the other side of the glass, his wife was holding onto their child, who for several very long minutes, was screaming hysterically "daddy..............daddddyyyyy!" The child - no more than 3yrs of age - was utterly distraught, sobbing uncontrollably & like I said, between sobs, screaming frantically for her daddy. This wasn't a quick, fond farewell. This was an act of pure sadism on the mothers part! It's not like the woman couldn't see of hear what her child was doing - fuckin' hell, the sound of an A380 starting up its engines would've been drowned out by the screams from this little human. I hope the bitch suffered with a headache from hell after dragging out the prolonged goodbye for her child! Scenes like that tend to linger in little minds & I wouldn't mind betting the poor sprog throws a right wobble the next time her mum says they're going to the airport.

I saw a girl - in her mid teens I reckon, with green highlighted hair. Green. She was with another dingbat & they walked past the queue at the check-in counter several times. Trying to get attention perhaps? Looking like a mouldy twat? Definitely.

Outside the airport, there is an old railway carriage, that has been converted into a cafe/restaurant. There were quite a few people milling around. One chap, dressed in a T-shirt (bearing his club name) & tracksuit pants, quite literally appeared to enjoy every single mouthful of the glass of beer he was drinking. He'd run the Berlin Marathon & had the medal draped around his neck to prove it. Methinks he rewarded himself for his effort.

Another man stood near the railway carriage & he really caught my attention. He was what I'd call a toff - you could just tell by his appearance that he wasn't your average accountant/headmaster/doctor - he was a proper toff (innit). He was impeccably dressed in a tailored sports jacket, designer shirt & trousers, with brown brogue shoes. The only thing missing was a monocle. He sipped his beer, spoke quietly on his cellphone & smoked his cigarette oh so elegantly, all the while pacing to & fro in what appeared to be a mild form of frustration. I could just imagine him telling someone that it was 'bleddy infuriating having to wait for the chauffeur to bring the Bentley around - damn peasants have no concept of time what?'. He probably went home & buggered his teddybear senseless.

Just before we headed back into the terminal building, I watched a scruffy looking bloke, going around all the people stood having a drink or a smoke near the restaurant. He said "cigarette" - nothing else. No "please, can you spare me a smoke?", just "cigarette". After approaching half a dozen people & getting no joy, he sloped off to the shadows, whipped out a packet of fags & lit one of his own!

It takes all sorts to make the world go around hey?

EUROPE TOUR Part 3

2010-10-05T10:41:00.000+02:00

As we arrived at our hotel for the night in Zagreb, several thousand suckers exited the conference centre - opposite the hotel - where they had attended a Godbothering (give them your money & they'll save your soul kinda thing) meeting. They blocked the hotel entrance, the reception desk & the parking lot.
We were not amused.
Thankfully they cleared off within half an hour.

The day before we arrived in Zagreb, several rivers had flooded due to torrential rain. It was heartbreaking to see heaps of fields of crops & grazing land badly flooded.

A street, hastily snapped whilst riding through Slovenia. At least it wasn't raining.

We got stuck in a traffic jam, which trailed back friggin' miles. There was no warning of what the problem was & traffic in the opposite direction was flowing smoothly. Like everyone else, we sat & fumed for an hour. Turns out the roadwork crew decided to close the lane completely. Arseholes.

On the road again...........Salzburg here we come!

With the exception of our hotel in Prague, every hotel we stayed in during the tour, classified the above as a 'double'. It's 2 single beds pushed together, not a double! And what's with the sleeping bag style duvet? Duvets were folded width-wise on the bed, which essentially meant you have to shake it out & lay it the long way on the bed, before climbing into yer perch.
Europeans are strange people.

The scenery just outside of Salzburg was stunning - incredible mountains & lush green grass - what a pleasure!

'Mirror' gardens at Hellbrunn Palace. In true German/Austrian precision, each side of the garden has been created/landscaped to be the perfect image of the opposite side.

In the heart of Salzburg, the rather splendid gardens of the Mirabell Palace are open to the public to mosey around. The gardens are absolutely awesome. I could've quite happily stayed there for several days, perhaps reading a good book, or maybe doing a spot of people watching. (Gawd, there are some weird folk about!)

Fabulous scenery, on the road from Salzburg to Nuremberg. (Please note my keyboard doesn't have a key with 2 little dots that sit on top of letters, so I couldn't spell the city the other way - Nurnberg)

On our trusty steed at the Harley dealer in Nuremberg.

When we eventually arrived back in Berlin, the heavens opened again & that, along with rotgut courtesy of a dodgy kebab, made doing touristy things a bit unpleasant. We managed to get a taxi, which took us to Checkpoint Charlie but a big chunk of the city became 'out of bounds' thanks to the Berlin Marathon.

Hubs & myself next to the most misquoted phrase in Germany. Gotta love it!

On the whole, we had a great tour with good friends - the weather for the first 4 days was really kak - it rained buckets & was bloody cold. From the 5th day onwards, the sun came out & it made riding so much nicer. I personally was really impressed with the standard of driving by cagers & truckers throughout each country - they're courteous towards bikers, which makes a nice change. I detested the attitude of the locals in Bratislava yet fell in love with the friendliness of people in Salzburg. We rode through other major towns/cities, such as Brno & Munich & generally took in as much as we could see, given the limited time available. We bought Harley T-shirts in every dealership we visited, which meant that we came home pretty loaded down! (Fridge magnets don't take up much space!)

Finally, I really must give a plug to a guy who has started up an invaluable service. Parking at airports can be really costly. We weren't in the position to get friends to drop us off, so we had to take T2 to the airport. A friend of mine here in Schleppalale, told me about a new parking service at Oliver Tampon Airport (aka Joburg International). Martin, from S U Parking will collect your vehicle from the airport, store it in a secure warehouse & be at the airport to meet you on your return. I made arrangements with him beforehand & I couldn't have asked for better service. He was waiting for us at the airport before our departure & had T2 ready & waiting for us on our arrival back from the tour. In total, it cost us ZAR640 for the collection, storage & delivery of T2, which is less than 50% of what it would have cost us if we'd left the bike in the actual airport carpark.

EUROPE TOUR Part 2

2010-10-05T08:43:00.000+02:00

The general population of Bratislava are a miserable bunch of pikeys. Unhelpful & a tad confrontational would be the easiest way to describe them. Doris, the little lady who lives in the GPS had difficulty in locating our hotel. I saw a huge 'information' sign on the wall of another hotel, so I made my way in & being polite, first greeted the martyr on reception, then asked if she could direct us to our booked hotel.
"This is not information" she spat.
Fuckin' funny thinks me, cos yer sign outside says differently!
She condescendingly 'informed' me where to locate the 'missing' hotel.
It was in a pedestrian only street.
As we prepared to enter sed street, a rather aggressive local told us if we entered the street or indeed stayed where we were (temporarily parked on a paved 'space') he would call the police.
Welcome to Bratislava! (Fuck you pal!)
The only good thing I can say about the place is the local restaurants are dirt cheap & they allow smoking.

Doris - aforementioned little lady who lives in the GPS - took us along this road, stupid bloody bitch.
Thankfully there was enough room to get the bikes around the blockade & we carried on to join the motorway, which would take us to our next destination - Budapest.

As seen from atop the tour bus & taken at speed - Heroes Square

Taken from aboard the tour boat - the rather magnificent Parliament Building.

The throbbing metropolis of Budapest, Hungary.

I booked a 2 night stay in Budapest at the
Carlton Hotel
& after looking at the entrance,thought 'where the hell is the parking?'. I learnt throughout our trip, that the majority of hotels that advertise 'onsite' parking, really do have some dodgy principles. (It turned out with this hotel we had to go around the block, then up a side street to reach the underground parking. Not a single direction anywhere.............being a precious commodity in Europe as a whole, parking is generally a well kept secret!)

Budapest was great. We did the touristy thing & caught a 'hop on-off' tour bus, which included a trip down the Danube. Pukka! I really enjoyed it, particularly the architecture.
Sadly, many buildings are standing empty, thanks to the economic downturn. Alarmingly, the majority of buildings, no matter where they are, are plastered in various forms of graffiti.

The food was good.

The men had a field day in a particular restaurant that had 87 different kinds of beer available.

They gave up after the nth number.

I had 3 pints (over 2 nights I might add!) of 'Floris Garden Kriek' which was a rather yummy cherry flavoured beer.

Somewhere between Bratislava & Budapest, we stopped by a watering hole, where Mikey made himself at home with a barrel of Jack :-D

EUROPEAN TOUR Part 1

2010-10-05T07:36:00.000+02:00

I'm the first to admit I have a bloody awful memory, so for the last 2 tours we've done (with friends) I've made an effort to make notes on my trusty DingleBerry. But having said that, I thought I'd do a synopsis of the tour, 'cos otherwise you lot would be yawning..............

Met up with Mikey, Max & TLT in Berlin. Much catching-up over various liquid refreshments. Following morning, load up the bikes & head for Prague.
It rained.
It was cold.
(bitch moan)
German roads are good.
Czech Republic roads suck.
Czech Republic is held together by roadworks.
Czech Republic is partially owned by Tesco. Their fucking massive advertising boards are a blight on the landscape.
Prague was nice, even in the shite weather.

Sadly, Max & TLT had to leave us, as they nutted off to Franfurt to buy a dog.

Wenceslas Square (oh he of the Crimble Carol) Prague, full of dodgy casinos & porn establishments. (There is a Marks & Sparks as well, but it didn't have any crumpets or pork pies. *sigh*)

Having watched
Henry (I-don't-'arf-whinge) Cole's
rides through Europe recently, we made a detour on the way from Prague to Bratislava, to check out
Kutna Hora

It was well worth it.

A quick trip to the Harley dealer in Bratislava revealed this sign:

I suspect is was planted by a non- Harley rider who thought he had a sense of humour.

OUTTA HERE

2010-09-10T10:11:00.000+02:00

The good news is I'm gradually getting the use of my right hand back - yay! It's still got a nice chunky lump on the knuckles, but thankfully it's not paining half as much as what it was.

The best news is that as of tomorrow we're outta Schleppalale* for a couple of weeks. The bags are packed & ready to load into T2:

One Tour pack liner bag & the 2 pannier bags for an ElectraGlide UltraClassic which we'll collect in Berlin
In these bags I've had to pack enough jeans, T-shirts, socks & rods for a trip around Europe. It hasn't been easy, but I'm taking an extra bag to strap onto the tour pack, so's we can buy T-shirts from the various HD dealers we might happen to stop by :-)

So my fellow infidels/peasants/bitches or strangers who stumble across my blawg, getcha knives out in preparation for aiming them at my back, 'cos Hubs & myself are off to Berlin, Germany, where we'll pick up the rental 'Glide & hook up with Mikey, Mahmoud & TLT from the Sandpit.

After a night in Berlin, we head for Prague.

Then Bratislava.

Then Budapest.

Then Zagreb.

Then Saltzburg.

Then Innsbruk.

Then Nuremberg.

And finally.....................

Back to Berlin for a couple of days.

Am I excited?
You wouldn't chuckle!

I'll bore y'all with details (sordid if necessary) of the tour & a whole heap of photos when we get back.

Until then, be good, do it quietly & take the knives out please, cos I bleed easily!

*Lephalale/Ellisras

I REALLY DON'T NEED THIS................

2010-09-06T08:07:00.000+02:00

Last Wednesday, whilst performing my DWA* duties (as I have no slave) I klapped** my right hand on the bathroom door.
I let out a few choice swear words, 'cos it bloody well hurt.
I had quite a bit to do, so didn't pay much more attention to my hand.
Until about 5pm, when I realised it wasn't as 'flexible' as it should be.

On Thursday, I went to the dokotela, as my hand was swollen & friggin painful.

"Ahhh, looks like you've broken a bone" said the sister on duty.
Blinding, just what I bloody well don't need right now.

Several X-rays & a consultation later, the dokotela informs me it's not broken, but I've ruptured a blood vessel.

Five days later, my hand looks like this:

And it's still friggin painful!
I never realised just how useless I am without the use of my right hand.

*sigh*

*DMA - Domestic With Attitude (i.e. definition of a wife)
** Klapped - hit.

SPRING IS JUST AROUND THE CORNER

2010-08-31T16:32:00.000+02:00

'Nuf sed ;-)

GREEK PHILOSOPHY

2010-08-23T10:46:00.000+02:00

Keep this in mind the next time you are tempted to repeat a rumour or spread gossip.

In ancient Greece (469 - 399 BC), Socrates was widely lauded for his wisdom.

One day an acquaintance ran up to him excitedly and said, "Socrates, do you know what I just heard about Diogenes?"

"Wait a moment," Socrates replied, "Before you tell me I'd like you to pass a little test. It's called the Triple Filter Test."
"Triple filter?" asked the acquaintance.

"That's right," Socrates continued, "Before you talk to me about Diogenes let's take a moment to filter what you're going to say. The first filter is Truth. Have you made absolutely sure that what you are about to tell me is true?"

"No," the man said, "Actually I just heard about it."

"All right," said Socrates, "So you don't really know if it's true or not. Now let's try the second filter, the filter of Goodness. Is what you are about to tell me about Diogenes something good?"

"No, on the contrary..."

"So," Socrates continued, "You want to tell me something about Diogenes that may be bad, even though you're not certain it's true?"

The man shrugged, a little embarrassed. Socrates continued, "You may still pass the test though, because there is a third filter, the filter of Usefulness. Is what you want to tell me about Diogenes going to be useful to me?"

"No, not really."

"Well," concluded Socrates, "If what you want to tell me is neither True nor Good nor even useful, why tell it to me or anyone at all?"

The man was bewildered and ashamed. This is an example of why Socrates was a great philosopher and held in such high esteem.
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It also explains why Socrates never found out that Diogenes was shagging his wife.

LICENCE TO KILL (JUST GIVE ME THE BLOODY CHANCE!)

2010-08-02T10:46:00.000+02:00

Good News!

After a SEVEN month wait, Hubs has finally got 'Eish!' licenced & registered. Yay-fucking-gads. All it took was several hundred phone calls, a few thousand emails & eventually a plea to President Jacob Zuma's Hotline. The so-called traffic officials in Shleppalale & Poxykwane* combined went well out of their way to make life as difficult as possible for Hubs, requesting original documents, copies & even more copies of totally irrelevant bits of paper. When the clearance came through, Hubs took the papers to the local police station & a particularly obnoxious officer (who had previously informed Hubs "You'll NEVER get this bike registered!") went a lighter shade of latte when presented with the documentation. He then said "I don't know how you managed this!" but forgot to add "without paying me & the traffic cops a hefty bribe." That's all it would've taken - if we'd offered a wad of dosh, our 'problems' would've been solved, just like that. Well my historically-disadvantaged-corrupt-overpaid-and-normally-hungover-or-still-pissed officers of the law, you can go fuck yerselves stikkend, cos we ain't parting with a fucking cent to further line your greasy pockets.

Bad News!

Our applications for obtaining our SA drivers licences seems to have ended up in File 13 again. Despite providing everything bar a plaster cast of my dentures, we seem to have hit a brick wall. We weren't in the country when the 'old' licences changed to the 'new' credit card style. We got a police affidavit declaring we were not resident in SA when the change took place - this in itself was a bit of an eye opener, as the sergeant on duty at the time said "Eh......what is this......affydavid eh?". Once a senior (white) officer explained what it was, our declaration was stamped & off we trundled to the much hated traffic department.

Our applications were rejected outright.

We asked to see the traffic chief & he spared us some of his time, perused our applications & declared that Hubs must get a letter from every company he'd worked for in the past 15yrs, stating that he'd worked for them from when-to-when. When Hubs explained that there were a couple of companies that no longer were in business, the Chief Traffic Mongrel said "but you must get the lettah".
"Perhaps you don't understand me" said Hubs, with as much patience as he could muster "There are companies whom I worked for during the 15yrs I was not resident in SA, who are no longer in business. They no longer exist."
"Eh.......but you must get the lettah" was the reply.
Fuck me I thought, what is so bloody difficult to understand here?
Hubs tried to explain a 3rd time - talking slowly (watch my lips) and very concisely.
"Eeeeyes...........but you must get the lettah!" was the reply, again.

Bollocks.

What else did this dipshit want hmmmm?
Well, in my case, as I thought I'd go the 'other' route & convert my UAE licence instead, a letter from the UAE Consulate would be required. This would have to state that my UAE issued licence was in fact legit. Once this was verified by the UAE Consulate, I had to take sed lettah (another "you must get the lettah") back to the issuing office, because they must also verify that it was issued by them & it is indeed a legitimate licence.

Yeah right.

"So, I have to get a letter of verification from the UAE Consulate?" I asked.
"Eh..........eeeeeeyes" he replied.
"And once I have that lettah of verification, I have to take it back to the Road Traffic Authority (RTA) in Dubai, where it was originally issued, to get another letter, which states that they did indeed give me this licence?"
"Eh..........eeeeyes. You must get the lettah!"
"Er, well, are you going to give me R30,000 to fly to Dubai?" I asked
"Eish, no!" he said - opening his eyes so wide I nearly saw the yellow.
"So, how do you propose I do this then?" I ask.
"Butta, you must get the lettah" came the reply.

Now dear reader, take a breather here & picture me. I've never been a 'small' person. I was born big & I've remained big for my 52yrs on this planet. I'm around 5'10" & the scales scream in protest when they whizz past the 100kg mark at a death defying rate.......
At the point where this utter fuckwit said his last "Butta, you must get the lettah" I was poised & ready to leap across his scruffy, paper strewn desk & rip his fucking tongue out of his bastard mouth & shove it up his fuckin' arse!

Strewth!

I dunno how I managed to stay (almost) calm. I was so bloody sorely tempted to let rip into this twat.............but ended up saying "So, when I get the lettah, I can tell you now it won't be good enough for you. You will ask me for something totally irrelevant, because you can!"

Hubs put his hand on my knee & gave me a 'don't antagonise the fucker' look. I like to think that Hubs put his hand on my knee as a precautionary deterrent against me leaping across the desk & smacking the fucker into next week!

About 6wks ago, I was asked to provide a copy of my residence visa for the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.........................I was there some 10yrs ago. It's just another delaying tactic & another 'we'll screw you around because we can' gesture from the local traffic department. I honestly don't hold out any hopes for getting my SA drivers licence re-issued & in the meantime, I shall continue to drive on my UAE licence. Again, if I offer a bribe, I could probably have my new licence next week. I can 'buy' a licence from certain people 'in the know', but again, I refuse to do this.
I could have chosen another option, which would have been to report my licence 'lost' or stolen, but I didn't, because it's neither of those & to do so would be dishonest.
(I'll bloody well know better in future!)

I'm sick & tired of the incompetence of so-called 'officials'. There's a major drive on overseas to get Saffies back into the country, as there is a desperate shortage of certain skills. What's the fucking point though, if all we get is fucking uphill from power-mad mongrels who are determined to make life a misery, particularly if you happen to have a pale skin?

If Hubs or myself are ever fined by a traffic official, for not having a 'valid' licence, we shall eagerly await our day in court.

I'm sure the judge would like to hear our story.

*Lephalale & Polokwane

TRUE-ISMS

2010-07-12T11:07:00.000+02:00

I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your
computer history if you die.

Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realise
you're wrong.

I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was
younger.

There is great need for a sarcasm font.

How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

Was learning cursive really necessary?

Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

Bad decisions make good stories.

You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you just know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.

Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue-Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again.

I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me
if I want to save any changes to my ten-page research paper that I swear I did
not make any changes to.

"Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this - ever.

I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Damn it!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voice mail. What did you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run away?

I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing
anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.

I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to
answer when they call.

I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

Sometimes, I'll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and
suddenly realize I had no idea what the heck was going on when I first saw it.

I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.

I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and
smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they said?

I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to
prevent an arsehole from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and
sisters!

Is it just me, or do high school kids get dumber & dumber every year?

There's no worse feeling than that millisecond you're sure you are going
to die after leaning your chair back a little too far.....

As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers, but
no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate cyclists.

Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not
know what time it is.

Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys
in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the
Donkey - but I'd bet my ass everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3
feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time!

HE DID IT!

2010-06-22T14:53:00.000+02:00

After months of studying & a few weeks of impatient waiting, Hubs finally got the final results today & I'm incredibly happy & so very proud of him! He got a 'B' for his dissertation on Economic Duress & has now obtained his Masters degree in Construction Law.

Congratulations my babe - see, I told you there was no need to worry!

WALLED IN

2010-06-13T11:45:00.000+02:00

Since moving to this compound/complex last year, a few changes have taken place. (Before going any further though, let me just explain that the compound on which we live is one of many that have been thrown up in recent months, to accommodate employees for the Medupi Power Station. All properties in these compounds are owned by Eskom & are rented to the contractors involved in building their project.) Initially, each stand (house plot) was divided by a 4ft wire fence. Rumour had it that this fencing would come down & concrete panel walls would be erected. This left me wondering why put the fencing up in the first place? Mind you, Eishkom (Eskom) has got heaps of money to throw away, because it got the government to let it increase the price of electricity some 98% over the next 3yrs, plus it recently announced a rather obscene profit this past financial year.
But I digress................back to the walling...........
Concrete panel walls have indeed now been erected around most of the houses in the compound. Some have had to be removed & re-erected, because panels were sitting at varying angles & lets face it, if you've got a 'wonky' wall, it can be rather asthetically unpleasing to the eye. Let's have straight lines people! So, the walls were thrown up & the contractor blessed with the job (oh my gawd, what a larf!) took a bit of a breather when he realised that the line the dividing wall must take, was right over the sewer manhole.
Plan B - leave a gap!

Next up, the pallisade fencing was erected at the front of the properties. All very nice, but according to the contractor, Eishkom doesn't want to pay for 'double' gates. This means, if you're in a property which has 2 garages, you must manoever your car(s) through a single-sized gate, which has an opening of 2.7m. A meeting was held between the contractor & Eishkom & the latter begrudgingly agreed to pay for double gates for the properties with double garages. Now we only have a single garage, but we paid an obscene amount to get a carport erected & the contractor saw this, but insisted he couldn't put a double gate up, because "Eishkom has counted the properties wif dubbel garages". At present, the single gate hasn't been fitted & neither has the additional panel of fencing, which will be where there should be another gate.

So consequently, there will be an open space.

Because I refuse to move our car.

I asked the contractor to leave the 'gap' open & he informed me he couldn't because Eishkom says so. I can't have a double gate & I can't have an open 'panel' of pallisaide fencing, because Eishkom says so. I can't reverse the car, hook up the bike trailer & drive out through a single gate, because there isn't enough space. I did a 'test run' of reversing the car, from the carport & out through the 'gate' (space at the moment) & it took me 3 attempts. This resulted in me muttering "fukkit" many times & parking the car in a place where it can be manoevered easily enough. So if Eishkom would like to come & fight with me, I shall greet them with the aggressively menopausal housewife* attitude, complete with arms folded across chest & pinched lips & tell them I refuse to move my car because "I said so".

Two can play at their fucking game.

Finally, I'd like to share a few photos of the standard of 'elf & safety the walling/gate contractor practices. Yesterday, a labourer asked if he could plug his extension in, as he needed to use an angle grinder on the wall panels. I s'pose I should be grateful sed labourer didn't end up all black, shrivelled & with an instant perm (there's something ironic about that description) & his work was completed without incident.

I'd like to say that this kind of thing is unusual. Sadly, it isn't - it's very, very normal.

*I'm neither menopausal nor aggressive, but I can act the part when necessary :-)

THE SLUDGE IS TAKING STRAIN

2010-06-05T07:50:00.000+02:00

The Sludge is what I call an excuse for that mass of grey cells contained within the boundaries of my skull - i.e. my brain. I know I've got one, 'cos I've seen it on a scan, years ago when a bastard mosquito bit me in Ghana & I ended up feeling like a bag of snakes thanks to malaria.
So, I know I've got a brain.
And just recently, it seems to be taking strain.

Worry is a key factor in my strain. I worry about stupid things. I should be worrying that my son arrives safely at his destination & remembers to buy a fridge magnet for me............I mean a fridge magnet ranks as important dunnit? Instead, I find myself worrying that he won't fall asleep in a transit lounge in one of the 6 airports he has to go through in order to reach his destination. I worry that he's going to be too knackered to concentrate on the reason he's flown half way around the world - a rugby training camp in New Zealand. It's important for him, in his career, so I worry he'll keel over from jet-lag & wake up in an airport 2 stops from his destination 3 days after the camp starts.
I'm a mum. I'm entitled to worry about my boy, even if he is 29yrs old.

I find myself taking silent strain for Hubs, who is anxiously awaiting to find out if he's obtained his Masters degree. He's worked so hard to achieve this & although I know from previous assignment results that he should sail through with his final assignment (his dissertation), I tend to worry about how disappointed he'll be should he fail. I keep telling him he won't fail, I just know he WON'T fail, but it doesn't stop me worrying.

Since my dingbat parents decided to return to the UK after nearly 36yrs in South Africa, I've kinda guaranteed myself a weekly dose of having a mild to major stress-on, depending on their latest crisis. My dad fell in the snow & broke his shoulder. He became horribly depressed. My mother joined his misery club & the pair of them ended up on anti-depressants, which it appears the UK doctors like to hand out like Smarties. They're both in their 70's & both living on fuckin' happy pills, just to get through the day. Promises made by certain family members were not kept & they have been emotionally devastated. Thankfully, they've now moved into a place of their own, which is hardly ideal, but they can call it their own. They started their married lives some 56yrs ago, in a mobile home, as they couldn't afford even a rented house. Fast forward almost 60yrs & they're now back where they started, in a residential parkhome. They're thankfully happier now that they're in their own spot, which is a small but significant blessing. They've bought a little car & I'd be alot happier if mum hadn't told me that she thinks dad will burn the clutch out because he seems to think 2nd gear is fit for all purposes............

And now onto an additional lump of strain I've taken upon myself.......I've decided to try & lose weight. When I stood on the scales a few weeks back, I swear I heard a groan. I sucked my tummy in & looked down at the results, which were, in a nutshell, fucking frightening. I HAVE to do something about my weight, otherwise I reckon Hubs will be able to start looking for a replacement for me, much sooner than anticipated. Since getting the bikes a coupla years back, I've always said that I'm happy so long as I can still swing my leg over the bike & climb aboard. Well, thanks to some creaking joints - courtesy of my additional weightload I'm sure - I now find it can be a tad awkward to swing a leg over. In fact, to the silent observer, I may look like I'm a beached whale attempting to do a Saturday Night Fever dance move. I decided it was time for action & just the thought of it left me knackered.
I'm not on a diet. I've simply changed what I eat & drink. I've also started exercising, which is something I never thought I'd do again & for that, my thanks go out to a good friend, who has a well equipped gym set up at her home. For the past fortnight, I've been to gym 5 days of the week & just recently, have varied the routine by walking 3-4km. The tape measure & scales are showing results, even if I can't really see them myself (yet). Most nights I fall into the perch absolutely stuffed & am rattling the windows with my snoring within 15 nanoseconds. I've set myself an initial goal of losing 10kg, with the next goal being 20kg. I'm not in a hurry as such, although I'd obviously love to fit into smaller sized jeans & normal female sized T-shirts, as opposed to the mens XXL I currently wear (<--- I'm talking Harley T's here)
As for the cartoon above, well that's just for the 'lighter' side of my weight issue. (Just as a warning, anyone thinking of commenting that I should be 'more sensitive' because they've had to deal with the issue, can fuck right off now or simply have the comment deleted). I've got a warped sense of humour & I ain't apologising to anyone for it. I've proved that I've won the battle against anorexia by all my wobbly bits - from the chin down - plus I couldn't make myself puke, cos me denture's would get stuck & I'd end up choking meself to death!

Right, I'm outta here. Time to do a spot of housework & then head out to the garage, to help Hubs (by watching & providing coffee!) who is fitting new bits of bling to T2. Photos to follow another day. She's going to look so bitchy!

OH TO BE A DOCTOR & WHAT HAS TO BE THE BEST RETORT EVER!

2010-05-23T17:32:00.000+02:00

First-year students at Medical School were receiving their first anatomy class with a real dead human body. They all gathered around the surgery table with the body covered with a white sheet.

The professor began the lecture by telling them: "In medicine, it is necessary to possess two important qualities as a doctor: The first is that you not be disgusted by anything involving the human body."

To illustrate, he pulled back the sheet, stuck his finger in the anus of the corpse, withdrew it, and stuck it in his mouth.

"Go ahead and do the same thing," he told his students.

The students freaked out, hesitated for several minutes, but eventually took turns sticking a finger in the butt of the dead body and sucking on it. When everyone finished, the professor looked at them and said,

"The second most important quality is observation. I stuck in my middle finger and sucked on my index finger. Now learn to pay attention."

Wicked! Sincere thanks to Harley biker bud George for that one :-)

A classic, if not truly brilliant retort!

This is allegedly a true story.

An Irishman was just finishing up at work, when his wife phoned. It was their 15th wedding anniversary & she would be making a really special dinner for him that evening. She asked her husband to please stop at a particular shop on his way home from work & buy a small can of escargot.

The dutiful husband stopped as requested & bought the escargot, but whilst he was in the shop, he ran into a friend & they got chatting. He explained that it was a special day - his 15th wedding anniversary - and his wife was cooking him a special dinner. After much begging, the friend managed to persuade the Irishman to join him for a quick drink at a nearby pub.

He met many other friends at the pub, who upon hearing he would be celebrating his wedding anniversary, all bought him drinks.

The hours flew by & next thing he knew, it was nearly midnight!

He thanked his friends for all their good cheer & swiftly made his way home.

He knew he'd be deep in shit with his wife, so he had to think up a good excuse.

He opened the can of escargot & lined the little snails up on the path leading up to the front door.

Without further ado, he knocked on the door & stood back..................

The door opened & his wife stood there, stony faced................until

He said

"C'mon you little buggers, you've only a couple more yards to go!"

With sincere thanks to Rob via Hubs, who had me in stitches!

SPECIFICATIONS

2010-05-16T14:00:00.000+02:00

The US standard railroad gauge (distance between the rails) is 4 feet, 8.5 inches. That's an exceedingly odd number.

Why was that gauge used? Because that's the way they built them in England , and English expatriates designed the US railroads.

Why did the English build them like that? Because the first rail lines were built by the same people who built the pre-railroad tramways, and that's the gauge they used.

Why did 'they' use that gauge then? Because the people who built the tramways used the same jigs and tools that they had used for building wagons, which used that wheel spacing.

Why did the wagons have that particular odd wheel spacing? Well, if they tried to use any other spacing, the wagon wheels would break on some of the old, long distance roads in England , because that's the spacing of the wheel ruts.

So who built those old rutted roads? Imperial Rome built the first long distance roads in Europe (including England ) for their legions. Those roads have been used ever since.
And the ruts in the roads? Roman war chariots formed the initial ruts, which everyone else had to match for fear of destroying their wagon wheels. Since the chariots were made for Imperial Rome , they were all alike in the matter of wheel spacing. Therefore the United States standard railroad gauge of 4 feet, 8.5 inches is derived from the original specifications for an Imperial Roman war chariot.

Bureaucracies live forever.

So the next time you are handed a specification/procedure/process and wonder 'What horse's arse/ass came up with this?' , you may be exactly right. Imperial Roman army chariots were made just wide enough to accommodate the rear ends of two war horses. (Two horses' arses/asses.) Now, the twist to the story:

When you see a Space Shuttle sitting on its launch pad, there are two big booster rockets attached to the sides of the main fuel tank. These are solid rocket boosters, or SRBs. The SRBs are made by Thiokol at their factory in Utah.
The engineers who designed the SRBs would have preferred to make them a bit fatter, but the SRBs had to be shipped by train from the factory to the launch site. The railroad line from the factory happens to run through a tunnel in the mountains, and the SRBs had to fit through that tunnel. The tunnel is slightly wider than the railroad track, and the railroad track, as you now know, is about as wide as two horses' behinds.

So, a major Space Shuttle design feature of what is arguably the world's most advanced transportation system was determined over two thousand years ago by the width of a horse's arse/ass. And you thought being a horse's arse wasn't important?

Ancient horse's arses control almost everything... and CURRENT Horses arses are controlling everything else

With thanks to Hubs, who passes on all sorts of useless information to me :-)

SUN, SAND, SEA & A WHOLE HEAP OF HARLEYS

2010-05-07T10:22:00.000+02:00

We arrived in Margate absolutely knackered! The 1010km trip took 12hrs, thanks to the bastard roadworks on the highways outside Pretoria & Joburg. (I'll be so glad when this fuckin' Soccer World Cup is over & bloody done with! All the upgrading of existing roads is a bloody nightmare.) We started passing bikes shortly after we hit the N3 (Durban highway) & the closer we got to the coast, the more bikes there were.
After unhitching T2 at the spot where we'd booked in, we set off in search of food. Not long after that, we hit the perch & it was a case of sinking into a welcome coma for the next 8hrs!

The following day - Friday - we rode into town to suss out what was happening in 'Harley Street'. Oh my gawd, what a pleasure! The powers-that-be closed off the main street which ran the length of the beachfront & it became Harley Heaven! There were bikes, dealer showrooms & tents, local tourist traders & more bikes. Despite this being a HOG rally, all makes of bike were welcome to attend.
(I gotta admit though, that the sight of someone wearing Hells Angels South Africa colours, riding a rice rocket, literally made me cringe.)

Harley Street (aka Marine Parade) - the street where everyone sussed out everyone elses bike!

The gathering of bikes at the Shelly Centre on Sunday morning, in preparation for the mass ride.

The above 2 photos were of the mass ride - from Shelly Beach to Margate. Despite the departures being staggered, the later departures made up the rear of a solid 9km 'train' of bikes. Bloody awesome!

Harley Street in full swing - heaps of peeps & heaps of bikes.

Preparing to leave the Shelly Centre.

Hubs & I took a ride out to Oribi Gorge, less than 40km away. The scenery was stunning. What made it nicer was we took our hemets off in the gorge - what a pleasure to hear the birds & critter, plus the dulcet tones of T2 :-)

The above 3 photos were all taken from the spot where we stayed. It was so peaceful - even with the roar of hundreds of bikes passing by at regular intervals - & the outlook was really beautiful.
Nice paint jobby - gets the message across quite eloquently dontcha think?
A vintage BMW with sidecar - I like the mounted machine gun.........I bet no one even thinks of road-rage when they see that........hehehe

There were several trikes at the rally & as much as I like them, I didn't come across a single one that retained any of the original bike power. I liked the paint jobby on this one though.

T2, parked up by the front door of our chalet. Any closer & I could've sat on her to watch TV at night! Thumbs up to the management of Villa del Sol, who accommodated the bikes & bikers with great service.

New screen on T2...............I'm not exactly a 'skull theme' type of dumb blonde, but I gotta admit I really liked this screen when I first saw it, so Hubs got for T2

I got me some new ink done whilst I was in town. There were at least 3 tattooists in Margate, but I waited until the town had quietend down before making an appointment. I took a good book with me & only said "oww" once. Less than 45mins later & I was all done - what a pleasure! (The new ink is a medical warning that I take a blood thinner & tend to bleed profusely when cut)

Overall, there was only one thing that truly pissed on my battery during the rally & that was seeing a lovely blue TriGlide (the HD trike) on proud display in the Harley Davidson main showroom. I could've wept honestly, as (for the 1 or 2 regular readers of my drivel will know) I've wanted one for months & months. The dealership we dealt with when we first came back to SA told us a heap of bollocks & we ended up buying T2, an Ultra Classic Limited. Don't get me wrong, T2 is a fabulous bike & we're very happy with her, but the TriGlide was always my dream. Fuck em, I'll wait & see what the 2011 bikes are like, cos I'm not prepared to wait several more months to get a TriGlide in the colour I want, plus lose a shitload of dosh on a trade in.
The residents of Margate & surrounding towns deserve a huge 'Thank You' for being such gracious hosts to some 8,000 bikes & more than 20,000 visitors. They lined the roads & waved to everyone on the mass ride out on Sunday & I never heard a single complaint from anyone. I also never saw a single person who was ratarse (in public) or who caused any form of (annoying) disturbance. That to me, is a major compliment to everyone who attended.

Hubs got to finish his dissertation - YAY! - so we have to wait now until sometime in June for the results. I helped him as much as I could, but that was mostly by making sure he was kept well fed & watered. Mind you, what I know about Economic Duress (the subject of his thesis) nowadays is quite inspiring!

Next on the agenda: deciding where to bugger off to in July, cos I sure as hell don't want to be here for the fiasco of the Soccer World Cup!

AT LEAST ONE OF US REBELS HAS A CLUE

2010-04-22T11:17:00.000+02:00

Right then fellow infidels, yours truly & Hubs are outa here for a while. T2 will be loaded shortly (as above) & we shall be heading for the Kwa Zulu Natal coastal town of Margate, to attend the 2nd annual All Africa HOG Rally. Yay gads, I can hardly bloody wait! There will be heaps of hawgs, heaps of peeps & much fun is anticipated.

Before anyone would like to bitch that we're dragging T2 behind the Beemer - like real rich gits - let me explain:
The day before Hubs was due to take study leave over Easter, his employer cancelled sed leave.
It did not go down very well.
Hubs has to knock out a 20,000 word dissertation to complete his Masters degree.
Which he was going to do during the study leave.

*sigh*

Another leave application was submitted & approved, starting tomorrow & allowing additional time to do the necessary dissertation.

Guess what?

Yeah.........a 'really important' meeting was arranged for tomorrow & Hubs was needed to attend.

Over-my-dead-fucking-body!

Violence was threatened.

There is no time left to postpone 5yrs worth of study.
Hubs employer got the message......he couldn't care less if the soddin' president of the country was at the meeting! It has now been postponed.

He is taking his leave & we will be attending the rally, but not in that specific order.

So, the reason we're towing T2 down, instead of riding her, is because we have to schlepp a whole heap of study books, files & stuff, as well as the laptop. It won't all fit in the panniers, hence the car. Hubs has worked long & hard to get where he is. I'm the rebel-without-a-clue, but then I'm blonde, which speaks volumes.....

If we set off by 7am, we'll reach our destination by 5pm insh'allah. If we were to ride, it'd take 2 days & we just don't have the time, cos there's 20,000 very important words at stake here, innit.

Be good folks, do it quietly & have fun while I'm away. I'll hopefully take heaps of photos of various hawgs & if any of the guys want pics from wet T-shirt competitions, kindly remember to put a cheque in the post............

SPOILT BITCH!

2010-04-07T14:10:00.000+02:00

Went into a jewellers on Saturday, to get a new battery put in my watch.

Came out with a new TAG.

I'm a spoilt bitch.

I reckon I'm worth it tho' *big grin*

Hubs reckons I'm worth it too :-D

POST TURTLE

2010-03-30T09:17:00.000+02:00

While sewing a cut on the hand of a 75 year old farmer, who's hand was caught in the gate while working cattle, the doctor struck up a conversation with the old man.

Eventually the topic got around to the ANC and Julius Malema

The old farmer said, 'Well, you know, in my opinion, Malema is a 'Post Turtle''.

Not being familiar with the term, the doctor asked him, what a 'post turtle' was.

The old farmer said, 'When you're driving down a country road and you come across a fence post with a turtle balanced on top, that's a 'post turtle'.

The old farmer saw the puzzled look on the doctor's face so he continued to explain.

'You know he didn't get up there by himself, he doesn't belong up there, he doesn't know what to do while he's up there, and you just wonder what kind of dumb bugger put him up there to begin with.'

I'm bloody sure there are heaps of people all over the world who feel the same way about their own so-called politicians!

CURRICULUM VITAE

2010-03-12T09:07:00.000+02:00

Just recently, I had the daunting task of chucking a CV together for myself. All the time I was trawling through my cranial sludge, trying to remember lost years & memorable employers, I kept thinking about the person who would actually read about me & my 'working' life. If I were to put myself in their shoes, I'd be shredding my CV at warp speed. Mind you, I must admit, some bloody good memories resurfaced. My only hope is that whoever gets to read my CV will have a sense of humour, even if the shredder sits hovering.

A hypothetical interview would go something like this............

(PE - Prospective Employer, probably young enough to be my son/daughter)

PE: I see you were educated in England, but you haven't listed any qualifications?

ME: Nah, that's cos my parents hatched a cunning plan to emigrate, so I was dragged kicking & screaming from high school 3mths before sitting my O-Levels. They gave me the choice of going back to school or trying to find a job when we settled & being a rebel-without-a-clue, I chose the latter.

PE: What did you study at college?

ME: Computer programming, but what I learnt is obsolete now. Remember when computers ran on magnetic tape?

PE: Ummmm, no. *confused look* OK, moving on...........you were a nurse for a while? Why did you leave?

ME: Well, one of the ward sisters was a real psycho - if she was in charge during the night-shift & there was a full moon that night, whoa, she'd do some pretty strange things. Another ward sister made me go up to the mortuary & extract the dentures out of a patient who'd died 2 days previously..........jeez, you ever tried prising a stiffs mouth open & cranking the jaws open wide enough to get the dentures out? I was alot stronger in those days. Scary stuff! I guess I finally left after I told the hospital matron she wasn't fit to sweep floors, let alone nurse sick patients. She refused to enter a private ward because it smelled unpleasant. The patient was dying from stomach cancer. I stayed with him until he died, but the matron wouldn't even go in his room & that offended me.

PE: Ahhhh...........well.......it says here that you worked for a major supermarket chain in the early 90's. Can you tell me what your duties involved?

ME: Well, I was in charge of handling & banking all of the fat back-hander cheques that suppliers gave the company for special 'promotions'. I had the responsibility of the Company petty cash & much of my time was spent asking Company reps that travelled vast distances, just exactly what made them so special that they could have a chelsea bun with their cup of tea at a freeway service station. My supervisor was fanatical about the petty cash & considering she was a (retired) major in the armed forces I didn't want to challenge her. If she could save the Company 50 cents on a jam doughnut, she would. The Cash Office was a place where only the brave would approach the 'teller' type window. I think I survived longer than my predecessors because I've got a sense of humour...........plus the fact I mastered the art of understanding my supervisors speech defect. I never did get to meet 'Birry' from the bank though.

PE: You state that you worked for a glass company - can you tell me what your duties involved?

ME: Mainly dealing with stupid people. It could be a very challenging job some days, especially when a customer wanted a piece of glass that had been measured with a length of wool, which stretches. *sigh* I must admit I enjoyed my job though & had a great boss.

PE: Why did you leave?

ME: Because my husband was working expat status & he said I no longer had to work, as we were financially stable.

PE: Oh..............but after being out of the 'workplace' for some 12yrs, why do you want to start again?

ME: How long have you got?

EWWWWW & OWWWWW

2010-03-03T07:57:00.000+02:00

As Hubs parked T2 up in the garage - after a smashing Sunday afternoon ride - something caught my attention on the ground. Now I know we've got a few black widow spiders squatting in the garage & they don't particularly bother me, so long as they stay where they are, but after Sunday, I'm beginning to wonder if I mustn't thin out their population.............

I saw a small lizard had become trapped in the spiders web & it was it's thrashing around which had caught my attention. Mama Spider must've been quite chuffed with herself to catch such a nice dinner!

As soon as the lizard realised it wasn't going to go anywhere in a hurry, Mama Spider moved in for a taste.

I crouched down to try & get some good shots, cos I mean this is Nature at work innit? (All the while wondering how the hell I'd get my bulk outa the garage in a hurry if that bloody spider so much as looked my way!)

Mama Spider started on the tail & I can tell you, by the following morning, there was bugger all evidence left of there ever being a small lizard in her web. I know lizards & ghecko's have the ability to 'ditch' their tails in times of danger or crisis, but I actually watched this spider cut her way through it. The poor likkle lizard's heart was beating profusely - I could see its torso pumping furiously - but it definitely fought a losing battle. All together now.......aaaaaaawwwwwwwww. Ag shame.

So that's the ewwwww bit.

Now here's the owwwww bit.

I had a 'basal cell carcinoma' growth cut out of my neck on Monday. The actual process was pretty painless, but bugger, it's uncomfortable having your neck sliced up! (I asked the doc if she'd like to do my double chin(s) as well, but she declined. Bugger!)
It'll take about a week for the results to come through, but I reckon the doc got everything, so I'm not too worried. I'll just be glad when I can have a proper shower again & turn my head without yelling "Owwwww"!

CUSTOMER 'SERVICE' - 1-2-3

2010-02-25T09:57:00.000+02:00

I've just come back from yet another disappointing encounter - this time with a local franchise of a national company. I made arrangements to have a tow-bar fitted to the car a week ago. To the best of my knowledge, this franchise 'branch' is the only place in the area which supplies & fits tow-bars - yet another business that has the customer by the short & curlies. I was told to take the car in early this morning, someone would run me home & collect me when the car was ready. I paid a R4000 deposit on the quoted price of R7500. So off I went this morning, to get the tow-bar fitted. Fifteen minutes later I'm back home, bloody fuming. I was informed "the wrong tow-bar was delivered yesterday, so I sent it back. I'm busy phoning our other branches to see if I can get you one. When do you need it?"
Well fuckwit, you had my bloody phone number.................why couldn't you phone & let me know you didn't have the tow-bar? Was that really too much to ask? Your customer service is piss-poor pathetic & that's putting it lightly.

I took a pair of Hubs trousers & a king size comforter to the local drycleaners. The pants were for drycleaning & the comforter for laundry. I went to collect both items 3 days later. I got the pants but was told the comforter "wasn't ready". I went back a week later & after a 10min wait, was informed the comforter had 'disappeared'. How the fuck does a king-size comforter disappear?? I was asked to 'wait' 2wks whilst an 'investigation' was carried out & the laundry would be in touch. That was more than 3wks ago. No one got in touch, so methinks it's time I threw a few toys outa my cot.

On Monday morning, I took a prescription in to a local pharmacy to be filled. One item - the most costly at almost R800 - was out of stock. The pharmacist informed me she would try & get sed item from their 'other branch' & would have it delivered to me later that day. I paid for the whole prescription, almost R1000 & left with 2 of the 3 items. When the 'missing' item hadn't been delivered by midday the following day, I phoned the pharmacy to ask where it was. I was informed that the 'other branch' was some 300km away in Pretoria & it could take 3 days to get here.

In all three of the above mentioned 'incidents' relating to 'customer service' I'm the one that's had to do the chasing for answers. I am truly gatvol of the 'pay first & we'll maybe help you' attitude of local businesses. There is a massive influx of people to the area & local businesses have really never had trade so good, but I can honestly say that I haven't come across a single trader yet who has appreciated his/her boom in earnings.

I have tried, really damn well tried to be positive about this town, but when I end up having to do all the following-up when it comes to 'customer service' I simply wonder why the hell I bother.

* Actually - I recently had great service from the Maxiprest tyre dealer in town. I asked for a quote on 4 tyres, agreed with it & made arrangements to get them fitted. I took the car down on Tuesday, was attended to within minutes & was home again about an hour & half later. Great service!

BACK IN YER BOX, BOY.

2010-02-21T11:26:00.000+02:00

The brilliant South African cartoonist Zapiro couldn't have captured a better likeness of Julius Malema - the head of the ANCYL (African National Congress Youth League) - if he tried. What Malema normally spouts can easily be understood as pure crap, so the toilet roll is very apt.
In the past few weeks, many South Africans have asked "Why doesn't (President) Zuma rap Malema over the knuckles?" but no answer has been forthcoming. Since Zuma's recent State of the Nation address on TV, way too many people are seriously wondering what the hell is going on with this country. It appears as though we have a President who would fuck a snake if it had armpits. The silence, denial & then admittance of having another child 'out of wedlock' (like that means anything!) was hastily brushed under the dung floor in El Presidenti's kraal. Shit happens folks - our leader has five wives & at the last count 20 children, thinks that HIV/AIDS can be washed away with a shower after sex, but yet preaches to the masses to only have one partner & not screw around! Hey, it's alright for him - he's the President, he can do & say what he wants! And because of that, he has chosen to ignore the blatant statements of racial hatred that Julius Malema regularly spews forth.
In todays edition of the Sunday Times, journalists BUDDY NAIDU and SIMPIWE PILISO write of the newspapers investigation into how Malema - on a salary of allegedly ZAR20,000* per month - can afford to pay cash for 2 luxury houses worth an estimated ZAR4.6million. Documented proof shows that Malema co-owns a company called SGL Engineering Projects, which was awarded contracts of between ZAR500,000 & ZAR39million between 2007-2008, yet he denies any knowledge of what the company does.
"I have nothing to do with their operations. I know nothing about what is happening in SGL, where are they making their money, where do they get tenders. I know nothing about that," he said.
Really? You have no idea? Do you just receive fat payments on a regular basis & assume that the Tooth Fairy puts them in your bank account?
Malema also stated:
"There is no law that says politicians can't be businessmen. The problem with you is that when an African child is emerging and becoming successful, that is when you have a problem. That is your major problem that causes you sleepless nights.

"You want to see us dying in poverty. That is what you are committed to."

Well no, you stupid boy, you are so very wrong. What the people actually want to know is how come the company that you co-own is being awarded lucrative contracts from various municipalities within Limpopo Province? What people want to know is why do you insinuate that because you are 'African' you are entitled to succeed? What people want to know is how come you buy luxury houses - without 'knowing' where your money comes from, whilst a vast majority of hard-working 'Africans' can barely afford to put food on the table for their families?
Don't think that all of your fellow countrymen over the age of 40yrs agree with your egotistical unification of "us", because by your determination, "us" means black. You seem to take great pleasure in undoing everything that Nelson Mandela worked so incredibly hard to achieve - a multi-ethnic country where colour is irrelevant. Sadly, Madiba no longer holds the power to reign you in.
Sadly, it appears Zuma is too busy on his ever expanding domestic front to deal with you.
Personally, I sincerely hope that someone cuts you short & brings you back down to earth with an almighty bump. Perhaps you should remind yourself of the 'radicals' within the ruling party who never got to see their next birthday, because they had an agenda all of their own. I'm bloody sure the ANC has it's own FIFO system & at the rate your going boy, it won't be too long before you're told to fuck off.

*ZAR7.66 = US$1.00

MOOOOOOOOOOOO!

2010-02-11T10:02:00.000+02:00

I'm in a 'productive' mood this morning - I must be sickening for something I reckon. I had a load of washing on the line before 8am, I've moved the sprinkler in the garden at least a dozen times, washed the dishes & put them away, marinated chicken in ginger in preparation for my dinner, read blogs, Facebook & the papers - all that before 10am! It is my intention to iron above-mentioned washing, vacuum the interior of the car, clean T2 (fuckin' bugs in this area must have a staple diet of Bostik glue, cos the bastard splattered remains on the windshield & fairing stick worse than shit to a blanket) do the housework, wash down the stoep & then start cooking the evening graze. I really do not know what has come over me!
So, I was thinking that I'll make a chicken Thai green curry for moi & the same thing in cow meat for Hubs. (Never done that before, so I hope it turns out OK) I bought a slab of cow meat at my local supermarket yesterday & normally, I'd slice off a few chunks, divvy the stuff up & chuck it in the freezer. I don't eat red meat & I literally dread handling the stuff. I don't mind when it's cooked - in fact I'll cook it with pleasure - but the handling of it leaves me shuddering most of the time, especially when the damn stuff is dripping in blood..........eeewwwwwwww. Anyway, I got the slab out of the fridge & put it on the cutting board - ready to attack.

Then I saw the label.

What the fuck?? ".......please cut off corner and allow product to breath for 10 minutes before use"

I thought the bastard thing was dead already - now I have to let it breathe????

I BET YOU SMILE AT THE DOLPHINS............

2010-02-09T16:05:00.000+02:00

QUICK PHOTO POST

2010-02-01T07:45:00.000+02:00

The all-new-straight-outa-the-box T2* was delivered to our doorstep recently. Since arriving in the Last Khaki Outpost 6mths ago, I've felt like I've aged at rapid rate of knots - due mainly to not being able to go out on a bike. Since T2's arrival, I can quite happily admit that my mindset has reverted back to being a rebel-without-a-clue & I am a very happy bunny. (To cut a long story short, the chances of me getting the TriGlide are about the same as me getting pregnant, thanks to HD USA farting around, so T2 became a necessity).

As much as living in the LKO pisses on my battery, I've gotta admit we've got some blinding riding roads & some awesome scenery. It was such a pleasure to get out & about. Within 12hrs of T2's arrival, we took a 180km round trip for a cuppa coffee.............sheer riding pleasure - yay gads it was wicked!

The all new T2 - a Harley ElectraGlide Ultra Classic Limited *contented sigh*

When we got back from the Kruger National Park last October, the first thing Hubs did was book another long weekend for the end of January. We set off on Thursday just after midday & just over 5hrs later, arrived at Letaba camp. We had one night there & the following 2 nights at Berg-en-dal. We didn't get to see the Big 5, but what we did see was awesome - cheetah in 3 different areas - a First for us in all the years we've been going to the Park. I've left one photo its original size, so for anyone interested, click on the photo of the cheetah LICKING the tree - something we've never seen before! We got 'up close & personal' with a very skittish rhino (jaysus, they're big bastards!) & the young male lion, with his female mate, walked alongside & then in front of our car for a couple of hundred metres.

Right, I hope you enjoyed the photos, but please excuse me, 'cos I've got a heap of washing to do................

*T2 - short for Tallulah 2

MY BIG BOY

2010-01-27T17:21:00.000+02:00

My big boy was recently named as the Forwards Coach for Leinster Colleges. This adds to his job as Senior Coach for Greystones RFC (plus daytime job as rugby coach for a naff private school in Dublin).

If you get to read this son, know that me & dad are so very proud of you. Well done on your achievement {{{{{biiiiig hug}}}}} plus {{{{{biiiig hugs}}}}} for Shans & Chikkin for their love & support.

HUNDREDS OF YEARS AGO.........

2010-01-22T13:12:00.000+02:00

Before Dubs & Pup took the gap back to that horrible part of a little grey island they so fondly call home (England), Pup kindly sifted through some old photos to give me.

On some stretch of pebbles dahn Sowf somewhere - probably Brighton - circa 1961

Taken at one of those 'happy family holiday camps' gawd knows where - circa 1959

It's a real bugger my hair didn't stay blonde................I could've saved a bloody fortune at various hairdressers. *sigh* Oh well, at least I've got hair - Gary lost his years ago :-)

CRIMBLE WITH CHIKKIN

2010-01-08T09:46:00.000+02:00

Hubs & I had a 3 day stopover in London(innit) & did the touristy things we'd planned. When we left the Last Khaki Outpost, the temperature was well into the 30's. When we reached London, it was 2degrees & bloody freezing! Thanks to being well rested from a good sleep on the plane (Virgin's Upper Class was well worth the money) we checked into our hotel, offloaded the luggage & then hit the streets!
We had a good look around the Tate art gallery & the National, bought a heap of T-Shirts from Warrs (the Harley dealership) & knackered ourselves out by walking around the Natural History Museum. We walked miles in the freezing weather, taking in Trafalgar Square, Oxford Street (bleedin' shoppers are so annoying!), Regent Street & a lovely morning spent walking around Covent Garden. Three days was enough for us though & we were eager to get to Dublin to see the family.

Chikkin is definitely her grandads girl! Spadge & Shanna are doing such a brilliant 'job' of parenting with Lilly - she's a smart, polite, funny & caring little girl & we're so very proud of her.

On Crimble morning, the Plan of Attack was for Chikkin to open a few presents, have a hearty breakfast, head for the local church for the Crimble Day Service & then hit the beach, before returning home to finish opening a big heap of presents & then cook up a feast! (Sorry, the pics are not in order, but you'll get the gist of it I reckon! Chikkin wanted to take her shoes off on the beach & then moaned like hell 'cos her feet got cold & wet!)

Chikkin's passion is drawing - give her a book or sheet of blank paper & a box of crayons & she'll stay occupied for hours.

Shortly before we left, we managed to get tickets to take Chikkin to see Jack & The Beanstalk Pantomime. She looked so cute! We weren't sure what to expect with the panto, but I can honestly say we all had a wonderful time. It was a great production & Chikkin thoroughly enjoyed herself, joining in with all the audience cries of "oh no you don't!" & booing at the 'baddy'.

Sadly, all good things have to come to an end & saying goodbye to your family is never easy. Spadge & Shans gave us a real Crimble to remember & we can't thank them enough. Spending Crimble with Chikkin was simply awesome :-)

MAD, TOTALLY MAD

2010-01-08T09:20:00.000+02:00

On Crimble Day, 'tis apparently tradition for local inhabitants of the town in which my son lives*, to remove their clothing & take an albeit brisk dunk in the sea.
I thought Spadge just wanted to nut down to the beach, y'know, to check out what lunatics would be participating in this madness. Next thing I know, his threads were off, his swimming rods were on & he plunged into the water!
A local chap I spoke to told me that for the first time in his memory, the beach was frozen solid earlier that morning. Gawd almighty, I was frozen just watching!
A race is held annually & a token award given to the first one who hits the wet stuff. All good fun I must admit, but I seriously think these okes are bloody mad!

*near Dublin

'TIS THAT TIME OF YEAR (AGAIN)

2009-12-15T08:37:00.000+02:00

'Tis the time of year when Crimble in Sunny South Africa is just that - sunny. As much as Hubs & myself enjoy the warm weather, we will willingly ditch it in order to spend Crimble with Spadge, Shans & Chikkin in Dublin, Ireland. Last year, we got to see Chikkin open her presents via webcam, which was a treat in itself, but this year, we get to do it for real! I cannot wait to see the look on our grand-daughters face as she opens her gifts.........................altho' admittedly, at time of writing, we have no idea what Father Crimble will be dropping off her way!

Hubs & I are having a few days in London, to do touristy things. For years, I've wanted to have a look around some of the art galleries & this year, we have the opportunity to do just that. I loathe England with a passion, but I will admit London is a great place at this time of year. Methinks I won't be missing much in the Last Khaki Outpost. A recently installed new set of robots has gone on the blink, so I guess the Crimble lights in various dubious establishments will have to suffice!

To one & all who read my drivel, I wish you all a fabulous (dahhhling) Crimble & New Year. I thank you for taking the time to stop by & comment - I really do appreciate it.

May your god go with you.

See y'all next year!

p.s. Some 3 decades & a bit ago, I fought off a redheaded bird (read skank) who had cast her flirtatious eyes on this sexy blond bloke that I had my (baby-blue) eyes on. I won the battle & that sexy blond bloke took me not only down the aisle, but to some incredibly amazing places on this planet over the years. On the 18th, Hubs & I will celebrate 33yrs of marriage..........awww. My love for my partner-in-life is impossible to explain. He is everything to me & more. Happy Anniversary Bob(even if it's a coupla days early) - ILYSVMEOS *mwah*

CRIMBLE PUD

2009-12-11T08:43:00.000+02:00

How to make Tequila Christmas Cake!

1 cup water
1 tsp. Baking soda
1 cup sugar
1 tsp. Salt
1 cup of brown sugar
Lemon juice
4 large eggs
Nuts
1 bottle tequila
2 cups dried fruit

Sample the tequila to check quality.
Take a large bowl, check the tequila again.
To be sure it is of the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink.
Repeat.
Turn on the electric mixer.
Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl.
Add one teaspoon of sugar.
Beat again.
At this point its best a make sure the tequila is still OK.
Try another cup...just in case.
Turn off the mixerer thingy.
Break 2 leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.
Pick the fruit up off the floor.
Mix on the turner.
If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers just pry it loose with a drewscriver.
Sample the tequila to check for tonsisticity.
Next, sift two cups of salt. Or something.
Check the tequila.
Now shift the lemon juice and strain the nuts.
Add one table.
Add a spoon of sugar, or some fink.
Whatever you can find.
Greash the oven.
Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over.
Finally, throw the bowl through the window.

Finish the tequila and wipe counter with the cat.

CHERRY MISTMAS!

OH WATER, WHERE ART THOU?

2009-12-08T16:19:00.000+02:00

Don'tcha just love it when the washing machine is half-way through its cycle & all of a sudden you see a flashing light? Mine did that yesterday - I had a pretty orange light flashing at me, kinda beckoning me to mosey on over to see why it was winking so cheekily.Over I moseyed & checked everything out - I switched the machine on & off & got the same flashing light again. Thoughts along the lines of "this is fuckin' blinding, first the ping & now the poxy washing machine has gone on the blink" whizzed across my sludge. Sod it, I'll make a cuppee tea, cos that always helps with problem solving.
Go to fill the kettle.
No water comes out of the tap.
BOLLOCKS!!! (But at least I realised the washing machine hadn't gone on the blink, yay!)

The water was off for over 5hrs. No notification or warnings of 'Kindly fill a bucket/20ltr water bottle/bathtub as your water supply will be disconnected' by the municipality. Gawd forbid, that'd fall under the 'We Care For Our Consumers' department & we all know our local municipalities currently have several vacancies for such a position.
The water supply eventually spluttered back to life some 5hrs later. My washing machine finished its cycle & all in The Why household were happy.

Mikey got up during the night, to get a drink of water.
The taps were dry.
Again.

When I got up at the sparrows fart this morning (5.40am eeeeek!) there was water once more.
As I write/type now, sed water has been missing in action, once again for several hours.
I phoned the municipality to enquire what the problem was. I was given a cell phone number of the 'emergency' engineer. I rang the number & my conversation went something like this:
Me (upon the call being answered): Hello?
Emeregency Engineer: Ey......hello?
Me: Helllllo?
EE: Ey.....hello?
(Thinks fukkit to herself & goes for the kill)
Me: I'm staying just off **** street - can you tell me please why there is no water?
EE: Eh.........eh..........(mumble mumble in one of the other 9 official languages)(I say 9, not 10, because he didn't mumble in Afrikaans)(for the unenlightened, we have 11 official languages in the Rainbow Nation)
Me: Can you speak English?
EE: eee.....yes.
Me: Oh good. Can you tell me please why we have no water in ****** complex?
EE: *yawn* I was there last night - there is a cracked pipe - but now I'm sleeping......*yawn*.........mumble mumble............sewer pipe...........mumble mumble.
Me: Thank you & I'm sorry I woke you up.
Click.

Eishkom will soon be starting the rolling blackouts, because they're broke, because they sell South Africa's electricity to neighbouring countries at a loss. Municipalities are falling apart at the seams, mainly because employees got their jobs on the basis of being the 2nd cousin of their fathers half brother who swept the floor in the museum at Robben Island & now goes by the name Comrade Wotever.

I'm trying very hard to remain positive about my country, but bugger, it's an uphill slog. If things carry on this way into the middle of next year, this Rainbow Nashun will be the laughing stock of the world.

HERE, THERE, EVERYWHERE

2009-12-04T08:07:00.000+02:00

Mikey, our good friend & 'Awesome Eight(er)' from Abu Dhabi is currently here for a visit. He brought with heaps of spices, specific sweets, 6 Vanilla scented candles (unobtainable here & always on the go in my spot in the Sandpit), HD Chrome Cleaner & various other things that I'd asked for in an email. Sincere thanks must go to him & muchly missed friend Kaya, who got much of the shopping for Mikey.
(Since buggering around with templates etc. a coupla weeks back, I dunno how to do the link thingy to names & blogs, so forgive me, I am but a Dumb Blonde. I also dunno how to justify the text anymore & it's irritating the crap outa me!)

Mikey hired the new 2010 ElectraGlide Ultra Limited for the duration of his stay here. It's a fabulous (dahhling) bike - so fabulous that we've ordered one. The saga of the order of my TriGlide has now become complicated & no one actually knows when the trike will arrive or even IF it will arrive. I've moaned at the HD dealer & he in turn has moaned to HD USA. It really pisses on my battery that HD USA treats dealerships outside of the USA like poor cousins. There are a shitload of customers within the Middle East & Africa who're waiting for specific bikes, but HD USA can only see fit to send what they THINK people want. In my opinion, they need a serious bloody wake up call. Anyway, to cut a long story short, we've ordered a 'Limited' as well as keeping the original order for the TriGlide. I'll accept whatever gets here first, but if it's the 'Limited' I will go back to being a pillion passenger. (*heart-wrenching sobs*)

So, whilst in the area, Mikey has been riding around, checking out the local scenery. He took this photo a coupla days back. Hubs & I knew the sign was somewhere nearby, but have never seen it........Mikey's here for 48hrs & finds the bloody thing!

Oh well, at least I've got my own 'evidence'! This was taken a coupla weeks back, when we escaped to the Kruger National Park for a long weekend.

This afternoon, we're gapping it through to a private game reserve in the Tuli Block in Botswana, for the weekend. I shall hopefully give y'all a 'report back' on what we did/didn't see :-)

Be good while I'm away.

DEMONS OF STUPIDITY

2009-11-23T18:40:00.000+02:00

If there's one thing that really pisses on my battery, it's God Botherers. I find them to be incredibly smarmy, patronising, pushy, self-opinionated, narcissistic & downright fucking irritating.

On Saturday, a pair of God Botherers managed to con their way into our compound. I saw a shiny black 1 Series Beemer parked by the neighbours spot & assumed they'd got visitors. Next thing I know, the shiny Beemer was parked up alongside ours & there was a loud knock on the front door. I opened up to find two young white men wearing false smiles & fine threads.
The greeting was in Afrikaans (Piss Me Off Point No1) so I asked them to please speak English.
"Good morning, we're from the Church of Bollocks blahblahblahblahfishpasteblahblah" which was Piss Me off Point No2.
"I'm an athiest" I say.
"You're an athiest?" they ask & I'm tempted to say "watch my lips" & repeat my declaration.
"I've just come home after a few years in the Middle East. I'm still full of Islam thanks"
"Is your husband home?" they whine.

For crying in a bloody bucket! It's like they have a mission to indoctrinate at least one member per household. They wound his ear off for several minutes, gave him a 'welcome package' & then thankfully buggered off.
I checked out the 'welcome package' to find several trees worth of self-proclamation (in Afrikaans) of how wonderful the minister, his wife & HIS church were, plus a DVD, complete with the 'look how handsome I am' picture on the cover. The whole lot went in the bin.

Yesterday, Hubs got a phone call from the God Botherers,("did you watch my DVD?") asking for a meeting, so that they could 'work on his commitment'. In the real world, the commitment this git is after is a financial one, because who else is going to fund his designer clothes, shoes, shiny 1 Series Beemer & narcissistic DVD. Hubs politely told the oke that he was busy & hung up. Hubs has his beliefs - his own personal religious beliefs - and he is quite happy keeping them to himself. I'm no fan of religion in any way, shape or form. If I believe in anything, it'll be in the form of Mother Nature, but essentially, it is MY belief & it doesn't concern anyone else.

I truly despise these God Botherers. They thrive on sucking victims into their self-proclaimed churches & grow on the wealth of people who can ill-afford to sponsor their flamboyant lifestyles. Now that the bastards know this housing complex exists, I can virtually guarantee we'll be getting more of these loathsome sycophants.

I won't be so polite the next time they knock on my door.

LEARNING THE LINGO

2009-11-17T12:47:00.000+02:00

Now that I'm home & have my few international readers (whom I really appreciate!) I thought perhaps I'd offer a few quick tips on understanding English, as spoken by Saffies.

*Braai**

*What is a braai? It is the first thing you will be invited to when
you visit South Africa . A braai is a backyard barbecue and it will take
place whatever the weather. (So you will have to go even if it's
raining like mad.) At a braai you will be introduced to a substance
known as mieliepap.

*Ag**

*This one of the most useful South African words. Pronounced like the
"ach" in the German "achtung", it can be used to start a reply when
you are asked a tricky question, as in: "Ag, I don't know." Or a
sense of resignation:"Ag OK, I'll have some more mieliepap then." It can
stand alone too as a signal of irritation.

*Donner**

*A rude word, it comes from the Afrikaans "donder" (thunder).
Pronounced "dorner", it means "beat up." A team member in your rugby
team can get donnered in a game, or your wife can donner you if you
come back from a braai at three in the morning.

*Eina**

*Widely used by all language groups, this word, derived from the
Afrikaans, means "ouch." Pronounced "aynah". You can say it in
sympathy when you see your friend the day after he got donnered by
his wife.

*Hey**

*Often used at the end of a sentence to emphasize the importance of
what has just been said, as in "You're only going to get donnered if
you come in late again, hey?" It can also stand alone as a question.
Instead of saying "excuse me?" or "pardon me?" when you have not
heard something directed at you, you can always say: "Hey?"

*Izit?**

*This is another great word to use in conversations. Derived from the
two words "is" and "it", it can be used when you have nothing to
contribute if someone tells you something at a braai. For instance,
*if someone would say: "The Russians will succeed in their bid for
capitalism once they adopt a work ethic and respect for private
ownership." It is quite appropriate to respond by saying: "Izit?"

*Ja well no fine**

This is another conversation fallback. Derived from the four words:
"yes", "well", "no" and fine", it roughly means "OK". If your bank
manager tells you your account is overdrawn, you can, with
confidence, say: "Jawelnofine."

*Klap**

*Pronounced "klup" - an Afrikaans word meaning smack, whack or spank.
If you spend too much time in front of the TV during exam time, you
could end up getting a "klap" from your mother. In America , that is
called child abuse. In South Africa , it is called promoting
education.
But to get "lekker geklap" is to get motherlessly drunk.

*Lekker**

*An Afrikaans word meaning nice, this word is used by all language
groups to express approval. If you enjoyed a braai thoroughly, you
can say: "Now that was lekk-errrrrrr!" while drawing out the last
syllable.

*Tackies**

*These are sneakers or running shoes. The word is also used to
describe automobile or truck tyres. "Fat tackies" are really wide tyres,
as in: "You've got lekker fat tackies on your Vôlla, hey?"

*Dop**

*This word has two basic meanings, one good and one bad. First the
good: A dop is a drink, a cocktail, a sundowner, a noggin. When
invited for a dop, be careful! It could be one sedate drink or a
blast, depending on the company. Now the bad: To dop is to fail. If
you "dopped" standard two (Grade 4) more than once, you probably
won't be reading this.

*Saamie**

*This is a sandwich. For generations, school- children have traded
"saamies" during lunch breaks. In South Africa you don't send your
kid to school with liver-polony saamies. They are impossible to trade.

*Bakkie**

*This word is pronounced "bucky" and can refer to a small truck or
pick-up. If a young man takes his "girl" (date) in a bakkie it could
be considered as a not so "lekker" form of transport because the
seats can't recline.

*Howzit**

*This is a universal South African greeting, and you will hear this
word throughout the country. It is often accompanied with the word
"Yes!" as in: "Yes, howzit?". In which case you answer "No, fine."

*Now now**

*In much of the outside world, this is a comforting phrase: "Now now,
it's really not so bad." But in South Africa , this phrase is used
in the following manner: "Just wait, I'll be there now now." It means
"a little after now".

*Tune grief**

*To be tuned grief is to be aggravated, harassed. For example, if you
argue with somebody about a rugby game at a braai and the person had
too much dop (is a little "geklap"), he might easily get aggravated
and say.: "You're tuning me grief, hey!". To continue the argument
after this could be unwise and result in major tuning of grief..

*Boet**

*This is an Afrikaans word meaning "brother" which is shared by all
language groups. Pronounced "boot" but shorter, as in "foot", it can
be applied to a brother or any person of the male sex. For instance
a father can call his son "boet" and friends can apply the term to
each other too. Sometimes the diminutive "boetie" is used. But don't use
it on someone you hardly know - it will be thought patronizing and
could lead to you getting a "lekker klap".

*Pasop**

*From the Afrikaans phrase meaning "Watch Out!", this warning is used
and heeded by all language groups. As in: "The boss hasn't had his
coffee yet - so you better pasop boet" Sometimes just the word
"pasop!" is enough without further explanation. Everyone knows it
sets out a line in the sand not to be crossed.

*Skop, Skiet en donner**

*Literally "kick, shoot and thunder", this phrase is used by many
South African speakers to describe action movies. A Clint Eastwood movie
is always a good choice if you're in the mood for of a lekker skop,
skiet en donner flick.

*Vrot**

*Pronounced - "frot". A expressive word which means "rotten" or
"putrid" in Afrikaans, it is used by all language groups to describe
anything they really dislike. Most commonly intended to describe
fruit or vegetables whose shelf lives have long expired, but a pair of old
tackies (sneakers) worn a few years too long can be termed "vrot" by
some unfortunate folk which find themselves in the same vicinity as
the wearer. Also a rugby player who misses important kicks or
tackles can be said to have played a vrot game - opposite to a "lekker"
game (but not to his face). A movie was once reviewed with this headline:
"Slick Flick, Vrot Plot."

*Rock up**

*To rock up is to just, sort of arrive (called "gate crash" in other
parts of the world). You don't make an appointment or tell anyone
you are coming - you just rock up. Friends can do that but you have to
be selective about it. For example, you can't just rock up for a job
interview.

*Scale**

*To scale something is to steal it. A person who is "scaly" has a
doubtful character, is possibly a scumbag, and should rather be left
off the invitation list to your next braai.

*Ja-nee**

*"Yes No" in English. Politics in South Africa has always been
associated with family arguments and in some cases even with
physical fights. It is believed that this expression originated with a
family member who didn't want to get a klap or get donnerred, so he just
every now and then muttered "ja-nee". Use it when you are required
to respond, but would rather not choose to agree or disagree.

Hopefully these words & their explanations will paint a picture of the colourful life which folks lead in Souf Efrika.

I USED TO BE INDECISIVE BUT NOW I'M NOT SO SURE

2009-11-14T11:37:00.000+02:00

Since moving back to my home country, I've toyed with the idea of starting another blog. I searched through hundreds of templates & found one I really smaak*, so I've done a 'practice' post. It needs tweaking in a few places & a blogging mate from my days in the Sandpit has said he'll have a look at what can be done for me.
But.............
I'm not sure if another blog is the way to go? Do I just change my template & carry on with my usual bollocks?
I asked Hubs for his opinion & he reckons I don't need another blog, cos I'm slacking on this one! (guilty as charged)

So for regular readers of my drivel, I'd like your honest opinion please. Chuck your tuppence worth in & I shall take your words under advisement - but don't ask me to throw myself under a bus, cos there ain't any here :-)

The 'trial' post can be seen here: http://lifeinlephalale.blogspot.com/

*smaak = like

JUST A BIKER

2009-11-10T19:11:00.000+02:00

I saw you hug your purse closer to you in the grocery store line. But you didn't see me put an extra $10.00 in the collection plate last Sunday.

I saw you pull your child closer when we passed each other on the sidewalk. But you didn't see me playing Santa at the local Mall.

I saw you change your mind about going into the restaurant when you saw my bike parked out front. But you didn't see me attending a meeting to raise more money for the hurricane relief.

I saw you roll up your window and shake your head when I rode by. But you didn't see me riding behind you when you flicked your cigarette butt out the car window.

I saw you frown at me when I smiled at your children. But you didn't see me, when I took time off from work to run toys to the homeless.

I saw you roll your eyes at our Leather jackets and gloves. But you didn't see me and my brothers donate our old ones to those that had none.

I saw you stare at my long hair. But you didn't see me and my friends cut ten inches off for Locks of Love.

I saw you look in fright at my tattoos. But you didn't see me cry as my children were born or have their name written over and in my heart.

I saw you change lanes while rushing off to go somewhere. But you didn't see me going home to be with my family.
I saw you, complain about how loud and noisy our bikes can be. But you didn't see me when you were changing the CD and drifted into my lane. I saw you yelling at your kids in the car. But you didn't see me pat my child's hands knowing she was safe behind me.

I saw you reading the newspaper or map as you drove down the road. But you didn't see me squeeze my wife's leg when she told me to take the next turn.

I saw you race down the road in the rain. But you didn't see me get soaked to the skin so my son could have the car to go on his date.

I saw you run the yellow light just to save a few minutes of time.

But you didn't see me trying to turn right.

I saw you cut me off because you needed to be in the lane I was in.

But you didn't see me leave the road.

I saw you, waiting impatiently for my friends to pass.

But you didn't see me. I wasn't there.

I saw you go home to your family.. But you didn't see me.

Because I died that day you cut me off.

I was just a biker. A person with friends and a family.

But you didn't see me.

Repost this around in hopes that people will understand the biker community...If you don't repost this, it sucks to be you. I hope you never lose someone that rides.

EVEN IF YOU DON'T LIKE US, RESPECT OUR RIGHTS TO RIDE WHAT WE CHOOSE AND TAKE A FEW EXTRA SECONDS TO BE SURE WE ARE NOT IN 'YOUR' WAY

Thank you for reading this.

This was sent to me via email from Abu Dhabi H.O.G. & trust me, with the amount of utter fuckwits there are on the roads in the UAE, a little bit of attention is sorely needed.

When it comes to me riding Ruby (when.......dear gawd WHEN she arrives!) I swear that the first person who tries to kill me because he/she wasn't paying attention, will know what it's like to feel the wrath of yours truly.

HIGH, LOW & STUFFED IF I KNOW...............

2009-11-08T20:32:00.000+02:00

I've had quite a week. I'm thinking it's not one I want to repeat in a hurry either.

The trip to the Kruger National Park was all that we hoped it would be, apart from the French family who were staying in a neighbouring rondavel......................jaysus they made such a bloody racket there's no wondering we never saw certain animals. Anything within earshot of that lot would've fucked off well into the bush. We did however see lion - in the distance I admit - but we saw them - plus a huge herd of buffalo, heaps of giraffe, zebra, elephant, kudu, jackal, fish eagles, warthogs etc etc - you get the picture neh? And talking of pictures, I haven't had chance to download anything from my camera yet, sorry. If there's anything worthwhile, I'll load them up in the near future. Instead of coming back to the Last Khaki Outpost on the same road as we took to get to the Park, we decided to drive from Letaba, right up to Punda Maria, near the very top of the Park. All in all it took us around 8hrs driving to get home, but it was well worth it. We went on long game spotting drives, we chilled, we played Texas Hold'em, we talked, we read & we bought goodies for Chikkin, our granddaughter :-)

Then we had to come back.

Fukkit.

Monday was a blur of unpacking, housework & other bollocks associated with getting away from it all for a few days.

Tuesday - got through on Skype to Dubs (my mum). Had a chat with her for a while, then Pup (me dad) came on. He asked me if I was sitting down - which I was - as he had something to tell me. The following few minutes were spent on him telling me that he & Dubs had sold their house, sold their furniture, sold his bakkie etc etc etfuckingcetera & they were going back to England, to live with my brother. This, after 35yrs of living in South Africa.

I threw my toys so fucking far that I think they're still in mid-air.

I shouted.

I swore.

I cried.....................correction - I let out several heartbreaking sobs. The only sound in my house that afternoon was of my parents crying, trying to console me...............................trying to justify their actions.

I calmed down enough to say I understood, but I didn't.

Wednesday. I was a wreck. I spoke to Dubs & Pup again, but after a few minutes, I ended up spitting my dummy, shouted at them & then hung up.

Thursday. Kept myself busy the whole day, sorted out the much needed sorting out spare bedroom & got Mikey's room ready for his visit in a coupla weeks. Opted not to have another emotionally draining talk with my parents. Took time out to think. Fukkit, my head was spinning.

Friday. Sent Dubs an SMS & said I'd finished my tantrums & if they wanted to, would chat with them on Skype later that day. Got a positive response. Went to town, finally bought a table to put the computers on. Arranged for delivery Saturday morning. Bought a bookcase, bedside table & small stand for the printer. For once, I had a pretty good shopping experience in town. Had a sensible chat with the folks. Sorted out what they wanted me to have from their house. Talked about their plans. Felt guilty for being such a bitch of a daughter, when they love me unconditionally.

Saturday. Fucking micro-convection oven died on me. It's not even 3mths old. Fucking door wouldn't open & then the plug tripped at the mains box. Bollocks. Now gotta take the bloody thing all the way back to Joburg, because the fucking fossils that live in the Last khaki Outpost didn't know a micro-convection oven from a space rocket, which meant I had to buy it in Joburg.

I waited all bloody morning for the delivery of the new table, but by just after 12.30pm it hadn't arrived. I didn't have the phone number of the store where I bought it, so ended up having to SMS my friend Drienie in Joburg, for the number of Directory Enquiries, because I didn't even know that! Christ I'm hopeless. Eventually get the phone number for the store & called them. I explained that I was waiting for a delivery & seeing as their store would be closing within about 20 minutes, would like to know if I was going to actually get the delivery. I got "Eh, eh meddem, just spik to the manager" & I was swiftly transplanted*.

I repeated my tale of woe to the alleged manager & the conversation then took a turn for the worse, when the obviously mentally challenged female that held the title of 'manager' asked me if I bought the table from her shop. I wanted to shout all manner of obscenities at her, but chose to be sarcastic instead & merely said no, I'd bought it from one of their competitor stores, which was why I was ringing her to find out where it was. For crying in a fucking bucket - really!

1pm (closing time for the majority of businesses here) came & went, so I thought that was that & I wouldn't get my table. A bit later, I got a call from a salesperson at the store, saying she would personally deliver my table. Fast forward >>>>>>>>>>> I got another call from the same lady saying she couldn't fit the table in her car but would organise for a delivery truck to bring it later in the afternoon. Just before ending her call, she asked me in a rather hesitant manner, if I'd sworn at her manager, because sed manager told her the table HAD to be delivered as the customer was very upset, had sworn & was rude. I think Hubs saw the hair on the back of my neck stand on edge. I informed the saleslady that I did NOT swear but that I was sarcastic & she should inform her manager that if she didn't know the difference, then perhaps she should go back to school!

Saturday afternoon, Hubs & myself did some rearranging in the living room. The desktop computers are now organised on the new table & my dining room table is now being used for its original purpose.

*sigh*

Sunday - today. Hubs has spent several hours trying to resolve a problem with my (desktop) computer. I vacuumed the Beemer, polished inside, then washed the outside. She's all clean & shiny, so I decided to treat Hubs & washed Eish! (his bike) with the pressure spray, so she too is all blingy now. Hubs cooked fajitas this evening, so right now, my tummy's full, I'm tired & ready for my perch.

So, a high of the past week was precious time in the bush. The low was the drama with Dubs & Pup & the stuffed if I know award goes to the alleged manager of a local (national) furniture store.

Please, someone, just tell me it gets better..........................................

* It's a commonly used 'joke' used by English speakers, when refering to people whose telephonic skills are severely hampered.

IT'S SPECIAL INNIT?

2009-10-28T11:10:00.001+02:00

Biltong

The inspiration to write a witty post for my blog has done a runner. It's the fun & excitement of living in Ellisras - it's too much to cope with sometimes..............she says, reaching for the razor blade..........................

So Hubs & I have decided to get away for a long weekend, to one of our favourite places - the Kruger National Park.

No TV. No computers. No radio. No phones. Nothing more than a couple of good books & a few edible treats.

Just bush...............................heaps of it, containing heaps of aminals. Rest, relaxation, early morning drives & catching 40 winks in the afternoon. What a pleasure!

Be good while I'm away, but if you can't be good, at least be careful :-)

Toodle-pip chaps!

SUCH EXCITEMENT!!

2009-10-20T17:51:00.000+02:00

After another quick recce of the throbbing metropolis(not) of The Last Khaki Outpost - a.k.a. Lephalale & formerly known as Ellisras (is it me or is this place really succumbing to an identity crisis?) I discovered something REALLY newsworthy & a reason for much excitement....................

O R Tambo (a.k.a O R Tampon) Road - which is the main road through The Outpost - is getting ANOTHER set of robots*! Two sets of robots on one main road - I've come over all faint - it's just sooooo exciting. (she says, clutching the razor blade)

Now townsfolk will have something to do on a Sunday afternoon...........they can sit & watch the robots change!

Others might be out riding Harleys :-)

*Robots - Saffie slang for traffic lights.

PLATTERS OF SOUTH AFRICA

2009-10-16T11:12:00.000+02:00

Joburg restaurant platter.

Durban restaurant platter.

Ellisras restaurant platter.

'Nuff sed.

OVERHEARD

2009-10-09T12:04:00.000+02:00

Overheard outside satellite shops of a local supermarket - a heavily accented (white) man on the brink of mild panic talking into his cell phone:

"Ja, I just don't know what's got into them......................I mean I think there's going to be a bleddy riot in the squatter camps...................ja, ja, but I don't even know what they want. I can just see a riot............."

Well, I wonder what that was all about? Could it be that we have a 'natives are restless scenario'? Could it be that the air of arrogance by one group of people has been shoved just a little bit too far down another groups collective throats?

'Nuff sed.

IF IT WASN'T FOR THE BLUE...................

2009-10-06T13:54:00.000+02:00

Today has - so far - been one of those days when I've wondered if the gawds aren't conspiring to piss on my battery until it just short circuits & fizzles out in a heap. Yesterday, I did all the housework, including washing & ironing, as I wanted today nice & clear, to do a bit of retail therapy. Over the past few days I've been jotting down all the things I need - things ranging from plants & flowerpots to iced tea & streaky bacon. After a quick tidy up this morning, I had a shower & got dressed. Now, last week, I bought myself a blue blouse - nothing exciting about that really, although I must admit I was surprised to find clothing in my size in the Last Outpost, which wasn't khaki in colour *coff*. So this morning, I decided to wear my new blue blouse. I haven't worn this particular colour for I don't know how many years, although I do have a Harley T-shirt in a similar shade, but that's different innit! I put the smashed picture frames in the car, in order to get the glass replaced, armed myself with my shopping list & my freebie Gulf News eco-friendly shopping bags. (They don't arf come in handy!)

My first port of call was the bank, to collect a cheque book & credit card. The cheque book was ready, but no sign of the credit card. I've been waiting a month now & I think the nice lady at the bank is as pissed off as me. *sigh* The main road through the Last Khaki Outpost is receiving treatment of some kind. This involves a heap of labourers standing around picking their noses & flicking the snollies away as they direct the traffic. I couldn't actually see why there was a diversion, but there was & I didn't complain, as it took me to right next to the nursery. I know what I want & the nursery didn't have it. They had infinite amounts of big green leafy things, but no pyrostegia venusta or petunia seedlings. The choice of flowerpots was pathetic, so I was doubly disappointed. **double sigh**

Next stop on my list of things to do was go to the post box & collect mail.........which involved disposing of numerous bills/accounts of 3 previous tenants. Not my problem. Next up was buying a lamp for the living room, plus a bedside lamp for the guest bedroom. I couldn't get what I wanted, so I ended up settling for the next best thing. *next sigh* OK, onto the next item - take broken pictures/frames to shop nearby that advertises 'Picture Framing Done Here'. I get there & it's a FastFoto shop. What they knew about framing was dangerous. Fuck it! Now I'm getting seriously pissed off I can tell you! I headed off into the Pick 'n Pay supermarket to do a spot of grocery shopping. The useless fuckin' shop was only just starting to re-stock shelves & fridges from the weekend & much of what I wanted was still lurking in storerooms. Bollocks!

By the time I got out of the supermarket, I was well pissed off & had simply had enough. I came home, had a bottle of 'Cranberry & Apple Sparkling Flavoured Kwench', sucked my dentures back in & thought buggrit, I ain't going out again. Knowing my luck I'd get a friggin puncture! And, the icing on the cake: whilst shopping, I never heard my cell phone ring (well, it was in the depths of my handbag!) & I missed 3 calls - one of which was from a good friend in Abu Dhabi. ***sigh so big I've got palpitations***

If wearing a blue blouse means having to put up with so much soddin' grief, the bloody thing is gonna get chucked up the back of the wardrobe!

BUT

I am still smiling :-D

EISH! IS FINALLY HOME

2009-10-02T16:41:00.000+02:00

After many weeks of waiting, arguments with SA Customs Officers & eventually the threat of legal action, we schlepped down to Joburg (yet again) to finally collect Eish! She was dusty from her journey, but had been cared for by the wonderful folk at Heneways Freight Services - Stuart & Graham went beyond the call of duty in making sure Hubs' precious cargo was kept safe & sound.

After dismantling the crate & reassembling the handlebars, Hubs put a coupla litres of juice in & cranked her up...............oh Sweet Jaysus, is there any other sound more exciting than the roar of baffle-free pipes on a Harley? Hubs was like a junkie getting a fix after a failed stint in rehab!

During my time in the Sandpit I avoided driving whenever possible. I have the co-ordination skills of a retard & me & a left hand drive car were definitely not the best of friends............................there was the added hassle of complete & utter fuckwits who couldn't give a shit if they caused an accident - so like I said, I avoided driving. Since our return to SA, Hubs has done all the driving, cos it's a man thing innit? But then we collected Eish! & yours truly had to drive from one side of Joburg to the other & then on to Pretoria & the highway/road home to the throbbing metropolis (not!) of Ellisras. I haven't driven that kinda distance (by myself) for many a year & I admit I was a tad nervous. I let Hubs set the pace & we were fine until we got on the N1, when it started to rain. I was fine (thank you very much) in the Beemer, but Hubs really battled. It was a bitterly cold rain & we had to stop numerous times so's Hubs could thaw out & get the feeling back in his fingers. Thankfully, we made the trip back without hassle, although it took twice as long as usual & several large dops of Uncle Jack & a hot shower for Hubs to warm up, bless him. My fingers ached from subconsciously gripping the steering wheel too tight & the back of my neck just about siezed up with tension, but once we were home I soon relaxed.

The following day, Hubs was out in the garage, polishing up his baby. I'm normally the one who spends anything up to 4hrs cleaning his bike (I know, I'm mad!) but this time, I didn't even offer. It was a bonding moment for man & beast. I just made sure Hubs replaced the sweat he lost with essential fluids - i.e. cold beer!

Soon, all in our little world will be right. My partner in life is happy to have Eish! at home & I'm patiently awaiting the arrival of my TriGlide.

The days can't go fast enough!