Tossed Word Salad with a Sprinkling of Irrational Thoughts

We all have to be held accountable for what we say or write. I don’t
have a problem with that. What troubles me, is when something simply jumps into my
head, often completely uninvited, the way food jumps into your mouth when you’re on
diet. This kind of thing happens to me often, sometimes I am surprised, often amused
but usually a bit perplexed. Continue reading

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Achtung! Fussball Freitag

It takes quite something for me to commit an impulsive act. I like to plan things, for weeks if I must. Above all I don’t like to part with money on a spontaneous basis. I once told my husband that I’d done some impulsive shopping, he laughed out loud. Sometimes I’m quick on my feet with the odd pun or witty retort, especially and ironically when it’s inappropriate, but everything else in my life is planned, calculated, methodically orchestrated. Continue reading

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Keep the change

It’s not a trendy statement to make, but I am not very materialistic, money just “don’t impress me much”.

When I recently announced to my family that I planned to study some more, my eldest brother responded by saying that he hoped this time it might be something sensible. How diverse the perception of sensible can be – even within the boundaries of one gene pool! I studied arts, he’s an engineer. He thinks I should have been an accountant. I’m afraid he’s in for another disappointment. He’ll be wrapping up his MBA while I’m stewing over the proposal for my MA. What’s a little B between siblings, I ask? To B or not to B?
Argh! Business! Why would I ever want to do an MBA when I have absolutely no (and I mean zero) business sense? This is a great pity, because between those two big B’s lies a colossal difference in earning potential. Worse still, I have no business interest. It leaves me cold. Frankly, I’d rather read a good book.

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Hair Baby

One Friday afternoon towards the end of another really hot sunny Stellenbosch summer, my best chum Ronèl announced: “Vandag is die dag wat…”Any statement of Ronèl’s that began with those words meant something radical was on the brew. This day was no different. Ronèl would have to be the most interesting, eccentric friend I have ever had. Blessed with an abundance of intellect and creativity, to this day she does not disappoint.
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Cringe

I bumped into a fiercely good-looking man the other day. No, you don’t understand: I mean thump, oops sorry, blush, run! It was horrible. This kind of thing happens to me so often, I’m beginning to wonder whether there’s something wrong with me. And it’s just so embarrassing.
I told my boss at work the next day, how I’d walked into someone again. That’s nothing he exclaimed! He once ran someone right off his feet at Heathrow Airport. Sprawled on the floor, feet in the air. Oh dear! But that’s nothing he goes on, when he turned to apologise it was Magnum PI! “I’m so sorry – Oh my God, it’s you!”

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Cat-astrophe!

My school friend Jane tells an amusing story about her family vet. Years ago the Parks moved from the midlands to the coast. Jane’s dad’s a GP and by co-incidence their new neighbour was the local vet, Dr Caldecott. The Parks, like most families, had lots of pets. They also lot of bad luck with pets, especially cats. It seemed that whenever a Park feline fell ill and went next door, it never returned. The Parks renamed their neighbour, Dr Killdecat.

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Captain, my Captain!

My father moved house recently. My task was to sort out all the kids’ stuff. We’re four children and we’re all hoarders. Two days of sorting and carting and dust took me back, as I saw my life flash past me (in slow motion) several times that weekend. With much nostalgia, I sorted the treasures from the junk.

I was already married when my parents divorced (setting a bad example I duly followed), making it no less traumatic. Still, good or bad, the past is past. Digging around in it can be painful. Lucky me for getting this job!

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Beautiful Brutal Honesty

A couple of Saturdays ago I took my nephews out for a milkshake and a chat. Somehow these outings never turn out as I plan and the little guys seem determined to upstage me. After much commotion I eventually get them to settle, drink and tell me everything I might have missed out on in their little lives: school, day care, friends, holiday plans, Christmas wish lists.

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A Question of Faith

On Wednesday nights my little sister attends a class, leaving her boys aged four and six in the very capable care of Attila the Aunt. As I am also Godmother to the eldest, that would be Frankie, I take this job very seriously.

I have only a cat, so our Wednesday nights are a jealously guarded treat, very reluctantly shared with anyone. Wednesday is also sports day for all, so come evening we’re all pretty exhausted. Bath time, snacks & story time run smoothly, but with a little added urgency, as they get home so late from soccer practice. I generally have no trouble with the sandman, but from time to time Terry, the resident night owl, may still need to sing for a while –“you can run, you can hide, but you can’t escape…” – or read himself a book. Not that he can read at four… But on the whole I must say – and I’m not bragging or anything -they are very good. And so am I. On my “lets pretend to be a mother” night.

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Vacuum Cleaner

To clean or not to clean or far too clean?

For many months I had been carting my sister’s vacuum cleaner back and forth between her place and mine. It’s not that he liked going for drives through the Park, but I don’t have too many appliances. I rely on an assortment of borrowed goods. The (rather bulky) vacuum cleaner sharing-thing became such a pain. Why buy when you can borrow, I told myself. Suze Orman learnt all her clever tricks from me; but clever isn’t always convenient. One day the carting of R2D2 look-alike became too much and I declared enough is enough!
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