PACKING: HEADING HOME March 21/22 2012

PACKING March 21 2012

We didn’t do much of  interest on our last day in Cape Town. I had a last swim in the morning, enjoying the wonderful  “Biblical” sunrise – my term for those sunrises when rays of sun stream out from behind the clouds. 

Last swim at Dalebrook

We had a leisurely breakfast as most of the guests had checked out and our almost fifty year friendship with Lola and Rick still generates a good number of subjects for chat and discussion. We drifted off to the Constantia Centre for some last minute purchases and said farewell to all the beaded animals on sale there.

 

Our last meal (well apart from breakfast the following morning) was with the family down at Arcadia in Kalk Bay. It was a jolly evening, as such family gatherings usually are, but I must say I was feeling unusually low. The combination of heat and emotion really got to me that night. We’re not great communicators as a family, so all sorts of conclusions were drawn from my curious quietness – which I only discovered later.

TWO HOURS OUT OF JOHANNESBURG March 22 2012

I was ready to let fly two hours ago as we sat waiting to take off from OR Tambo airport in Johannesburg. I was the epitome of a grumpy old man.

The day started off OK. I slept well, woke at 06.30, missed out on my swim, but got my packing done before I showered and took the car back. The cost was a little less than I had budgeted even though they charged me R125 for the hub cap I had chipped on the pavement coping opposite Steve's house in Kalk Bay. When I got back,  Rab had almost finished her packing so by 09.00 when we went in for breakfast we were pretty well done and we managed to quit the room before 10.00. Lola had twelve guests arriving so was a little anxious to get our room prepared for the new guests.

So all seemed well, but in the end, when Steve picked us up at 11.00, our farewell was pretty emotional, triggered by Molly the dog. She's a lovely creature but she is old and grey now and we know we'll not see her again. How many of our friends and family will we see? So many in their 70s or older have health problems; will we ever be back? Who knows.

Check-in at Cape Town airport was agonizingly slow, with the gum chewing lady behind the desk gazing intently at her screen and occasionally hitting a random key. But we got our boarding cards in the end and she turned a blind eye to the slightly overweight baggage. Rab's wheelchair was nowhere in sight, but it turned up in the end and we were wheeled off to the lounge. Steve had thought that we were on an International flight, so we were very early, but it was comfortable in the lounge, despite the somewhat unusual decor.

I guess the trouble really started on the flight up to Johannesburg. The seat was cramped and uncomfortable, there was no room to move, the food was again atrocious. The (very pleasant) steward offered us lunch. “What are the options?”, we asked. “Chicken on cheese or Cheese on cheese.”, was the answer. Curious, but we opted for the chicken.  Rab got hers first – a tinfoil baking pan with a sealed tinfoil lid. As she peeled back the lid she said “This isn’t chicken!!” and looking at the label underneath the tray saw that it said Beef and Vegetables. The steward said that he was told it was chicken and everything else was the same, but he couldn’t swap it as it was opened. I offered to take the dish, while Rab stuck to the salad and her bread roll. The meat was grey, cut thick and tougher than the biltong I had been eating. It was inedible.

There was no wheelchair when we arrived, so we decided to walk slowly across to the International departures from Domestic arrivals. Maybe we should have waited for the wheelchair because it was a long way and in contrast to the Cape Town airport, where we were somewhat chilly, it was decidedly warm. We paused on the way to make some purchases with the last of our Rands and eventually found the lounge, despite the complete lack of signage. It was one of the weirdest places of it's type we have ever seen.

Ostrich feather light

Kitsch would be the bare minimum description.

WTF!

There were ostrich feather light shades, high back faux ostrich skin chairs, fake leather chairs, odd lighting. None of the pictures I took do it justice.

My queen on her throne

We didn't linger long there - just had a drink and then moved on to the departure gate as my cousin Margie and her husband Duncan were, by chance, on the same flight - they are heading for New Zealand to see their daughter. When we spoke on the phone last evening I suggested we meet at the departure gate as they were travelling Economy and we would not have a chance to visit on the flight. We sat there for ages waiting for them and they turned up as the flight started boarding having, for some reason best known to themselves, been waiting for us at Immigration! We showed them a quick view of the wedding pics in the short time available and then started the long trek to actually board the plane, which was also hot. The flight steward greeting us at the door seemed particularly humorless, hardly cracking a smile when Rab gave him a burst of “I Still Call Australia Home”. All the stewards were old school – and some looked as old as us.

By now I had had enough and when I saw two children, including a ten month old baby in the seats in front of us and two in the seats behind AND some dickhead had filled my overhead locker with their baggage, I was very grumpy and felt that it was as well that this was our last trip. Two hours later, despite the almost continuous howling from the seat in front, I am well fed. We had with an excellent meal - chicken salad, followed by duck, followed by banana cheesecake with a mango dressing accompanied by some of that very good wine and I’m more mellow. I'll probably read for a bit now and then sleep, soundly I hope soundly. Good night.

HOME Saturday 24 March 2012

We did sleep very well. I guess I didn’t realize how exhausted I was from all the partying, the heat and the emotion – that’s a heady mix. No wonder I was grumpy. And the children were as good as gold. Once the howling was over, we didn’t hear a sound from them.

Clearing Customs at Sydney was no problem and thank goodness no one wanted to inspect the animals in their Transit Box. Not that there was anything illegal, but it would have taken some time to undo the box and then do it up again. We had most of the declarable items in one bag and opened that for inspection. Our travelling scale was at the top of the bag and the Customs officer was fascinated by it. He gave a  cursory glance at the contents of the case, said it was OK and then wanted to know where we had bought the scale, how much it cost etc. Rab wrote down the details for him and we were on our way again.

The alterations at Sydney airport made the walk to the Transit check-in a little longer than we remembered, but it wasn’t too far for Rab. A bus takes you across to the Domestic terminal and when we got there we found that our departure gate was right where we de-bussed. Unfortunately the departure gate was then changed to one at the opposite end of the concourse, but that wasn’t a problem as we hitched a ride on one of those golf carts they use to transport ‘eldly 73 yr pax’. The flight down was comfortable, the food good and Nick was there to meet us, although he handed us over to Maria as they had another booking.

It was a delightful chilly 16°C and the house was a bit chilly when we got home at about 19h30, but we soon had the heating fired up and in any event warmed up as we unpacked. As usual, Rab put on one load of washing before we went to bed after having just a small snack. We didn’t sleep very well and were both wide awake at 04h00 so we got up, Rab did the second load of washing and I got all the luggage put away, just in case we ever travel again and then went up to the greengrocer to pick up some fruit and veggies.

The post which had been held had been delivered and we went through that and some of the TV programs we had recorded while we had breakfast and waited until we could pick up the boys. They were very happy to see us – or rather Rab. They made a beeline for mother and only after effusively greeting her, turned to me and said “Let’s go!” They were very happy to be home, but didn’t insist on an immediate walk to collect the pee-mail that had accumulated while they were away, as old Gandalf used to. Before too long they were comfortably asleep on mother’s lap.

And that’s the end of this trip.

HOUT BAY: LLANDUDNO March 19, 20 2012

As we were on the final leg of this trip, I got to do a couple of things that I really wanted to do – and a couple I didn’t do. This wasn’t a ‘Bucket List” as such, but just a recognition that there were things I probably wouldn’t do again, people I probably wouldn’t see again and some really good animal friends who I certainly wouldn’t see again. They are all getting on the darlings and it is so sad. 

 

Molly

Molly, who is in this picture was a foundling dog, abandoned  as a tiny puppy in a cardboard box. She is a cross Ridgeback and developed a severe problem with ingrowing hair making its way to her spine when she was just a pup. The family went to endless trouble and spent thousands on her surgery – it was so risky only one surgeon in SAfrica would try it. She has lived a good and full life since then and is a lovely dog. So sad that we have to lose these loving friends.

I went for a last walk on the mountain. The day was a bit bleak and I wondered if it would rain, but wanted to get along the path as far as I could. I made it to the big boulder above the house – the one where the dogs thought they saw a snake all those years ago. As I walked I recalled the time I’d marched along singing at the top of my voice songs that defiantly challenged prostate cancer to do anything to me. That was part of my affirmation, getting fit, changing my lifestyle. And it seemed to work. I did wonder at times what anyone else would have thought if they had heard me, but it was unusual to see anyone on the path in the early morning – apart from my brothers. I was sad that I hadn’t made it up the steep path towards Muizenberg. I really wanted to sit where the boys and I sat so often just gazing at the scene.

As I walked back down the path a fine mist came in – what we used to call a guti in Zimbabwe back in the day.  I guess it is really just low cloud on the mountain. Cooling, refreshing, chilling if you’re in it for too long. It all took me back to a bit I wrote one day when I saw a cloud coming towards me on the mountain as I descended from my eyrie with my boys  – that thought is here - WITHOUT HOPE . The guti blew by but as I was getting towards the end of the path and just after I had examined some paw marks in the now damp sand I heard a sound behind me. I whipped around, ready for anything, but it was just two fit lads on their morning run. Gave me a bit of a fright though.

Down to Dalebrook for a swim in what was by now a sunny morning. The water was clear, there were schools of little fish in the pool - and also brother Pad. Good to see him. The shower still hadn’t been fixed, so I went home salty and sticky again.

We had planned on taking Lola and Rick out for a fine lunch at Boschendal in the winelands, but their housemaid had called in sick and they couldn’t leave their guesthouse for too long. We agreed that we’d review the situation later in the day and find somewhere closer to have a meal. Since our social calendar was almost running on empty, I finally got a chance to get over to Hout Bay to see what had been happening over there since we left.

The Sentinel on the left and Hout Bay on the right

Hout Bay was, in it’s day, a quiet bucolic community. Large properties with plenty of room for horses for the city employed commuters; small cottages on the mountainside above the harbour for the  fishermen. All that changed after the elections in 1995 when Mandela came to power. Some bright con man in the Transkei – Mandela’s homeland – had the bright idea of selling land in Hout Bay to eager buyers for a song. Thousands of “plots” were sold and in due course thousands of people turned up, ready to start building on their land, which of course was not theirs at all. This created a number of significant problems and everyone wondered how it would all turn out. Not as badly as everyone thought. Enough land was set aside to cater for the ‘sales’ and the basics of power, water and sewage lines were supplied as soon as possible. The resultant “suburb” consisted initially of some pretty awful looking  home made shacks, made from whatever came to hand.

Many of the shacks are still there, an unsightly scrap heap of dwellings, but some progress has been made with the building of small, simple houses and the trees have grown over the years, screening off the worst of the sights. Just why Safrican authorities will not licence the building of timber dwellings, the standard construction in so many countries is beyond me. They still insist on brick (or concrete building blocks) and mortar. The village itself had changed a good deal – and not for the best. It seemed to have grown without any central planning guidance with strange roads winding through a mixture of residential and commercial properties in various states of repair. The beachfront is now dominated by blocks of living units, many of them of unattractive design. From being a pleasant little place to live in, it is now an ugly suburb. 

Chapmans Peak Drive

The Sentinel

So we didn’t stop there and went on along the magnificent drive of Chapman’s Peak. We used to think this could match a drive along the Corniche in the South of France or the Amalfi Coast in Italy, but, having driven those roads, we understand the difference now. The views from Chapman’s Peak are magnificent and The Sentinel still stands proud and splendid, but there is no life around, apart from the tourists with their cameras. The European coastal roads are difficult to drive. Narrow and crowded with cars, motor scooters, people everywhere there are small villages; shops; restaurants and cafes. But on Chapman’s Peak there is only the sea view and the mountains. Beautiful but sterile.

 

Long Beach from Chapman's Peak Drive - with Kommetjie in the backgrtound

 We popped in to see Judy at Kalk Bay on the way back to The Stables. There was a fair bit of coming and going in and around their house – Arcadia – in the aftermath of the wedding. Steve’s office and the downstairs lounge room looked like a vintner’s storeroom, filled with  surplus wine – Steve was never going to take a chance of the well running dry, but it will take some months before the leftovers are consumed. Kate and her Steve were still busy with their friends, so many of whom had travelled from overseas for the big day.

Noordhoek Village Square

Back at The Stables Lola and Rick had decided on a venue for lunch and were happy to leave the premises for a few hours in the charge of the gardener, Oscar. Back we went over the Ou Kaapse Weg to Noordhoek (North Corner) to a restaurant nestled in the corner of the square of shops in this village, which reminded us of Hout Bay in the old days. The Foodbarn as a name for a classy restaurant didn’t make much of an impact on us, demonstrating yet again that judging a book by its cover is never the best plan. Although it was a hot day again, the restaurant was cool – thick walls, high ceilings and thatch have a combined effect of keeping temperatures down, especially with a gently sea breeze blowing through.

 

Not sure why everyone looks so glum - Rab, Lola and Rick

Light rose wine

The staff were first class, friendly and knowledgeable and the food was really excellent. We chose to have the three course meal  (all for R220/A$27.50) and although making the right choice was not easy from the dishes available, we all felt we had made the best individual choice for ourselves. It was magnificent and the memory of my crispy duck livers will remain with me for some time. The meal washed down with a lovely light chilled rose wine, so light pink it was almost apricot in colour. A truly memorable meal with two such good friends. 

What a finish to the meal - this was my choice

Out of Hout Bay

We drove back through Hout Bay again, back up the avenue of oaks leading to Constantia Nek and The Stables. So many happy memories of that road.

LLANDUDNO Tuesday March 20 2012

I got up in good time for a final swim, reckoning there would not be much time the next day, what with packing and getting ready to go It was a bit of a bleak morning and there was a surprising amount of traffic. The going was slow as work had started on the road again and I crept along to the pool. Passing St James I thought the water level looked a little low in the pool there and sure enough, Dalebrook was empty. Those workers I had praised for keeping the pools looking so good were at work again – turns out they drain and paint the pool every other Tuesday. I toyed with the idea of getting along to Muizenberg beach for a swim in the surf, but there were no waves and the effort didn’t seem to be worthwhile, so with one last look at False Bay I turned for home, stopping off at Arcadia to drop off a disc of the wedding pictures we had taken.

We took it easy most of the day, getting some pre-packing done, chatting, sorting pictures etc and then went for a drive past the city and out along the coast to Llandudno, a charming spot when we were first married. We used to go there for a swim and there was one cottage down by the water with a few others scattered around the very steep hillside. Contemplating buying a plot and building our first home there we decided against that course of action on the grounds that there was no public transport and that we would need two cars – something we felt we might never achieve. There is still very little public transport, but very few of the wealthy owners of the impressive houses on their stilts would be concerned about the lack of cars. Large four wheel vehicles abound and the problem is more likely to be related to where to park the fleet of family cars.

Bakoven - not much like an oven!

We diverted from the  main drive to explore the development in Bakoven (named for a large rocky outcrop which looks like a baker’s oven)  where we had stayed for three glorious months on one of my transfers back to Cape Town from Durban in 1976. I had been requested to move at short notice and agreed to do so on condition that we were provided with a house until we could find one to buy. Rental properties were difficult to find at that time, so we were very fortunate that the only one I could get hold of happened to have a waterfront situation in a small bay not far out of town. I’m not sure that my employers believed me absolutely, but…..they needed me there. Bakoven has been developed too – at least most of it has, with massive houses crammed shoulder to shoulder onto the small plots – but strangely enough the house we occupied seems to be unchanged, apart from the high fence which has been erected around it. It went on the market soon after we moved out – for what seemed to us then as the incredible price of R65,000. Mind you at that time the Rand was stronger than the US dollar.

It was a glorious day and the views on that side of the Peninsula were great. We passed at the site of a memorable shipwreck. Two ships were being towed to the Far East for scrapping in 1977 when they broke loose from their tow in a massive storm. Both came ashore and were wedged firmly in the rocks. Matt was fascinated  by the site. They couldn’t remove one of the wrecks – the Antipolis  which was cut down to the water level and is a favourite spot for easy dives. The second one – the Romelia sank in deeper water and is also a popular dive site.   We passed a fleet of old motor cycles with their side-cars on some kind of rally – interesting to see so many of them.

 

Two boats diving on the Romelia wreck - Lion's Head in the background

We popped into Cavendish for another taste of their marvellous pizza, although we were wary about ordering one each so split the toppings and shared one. Had a nap in the afternoon and also made a few notes because I had agreed to speak at the prostate cancer support group I had run when we lived in Cape Town. That went off pretty well. There was quite a crowd and although they had invited me to say a few words, of course that was difficult for me. Some say I can talk under water. There were a few old stalwarts from my time there, but most of the people were men I had not met previously.

I would liked to have stayed a little longer, since there were many questions and I would have liked to chat to some of the old hands, but we had to move on for a last meal with Sue and Mike. Delicious meal, Italian style, to celebrate the wonderful trip we had together in 2008 –  details of which may well feature in a future blog! Sad to say good-bye to Coke, their black giant poodle.

Coke

He spends most of his days lying under a magnolia tree in their garden, but struggled to his feet to greet us and farewell us. We’ll not see him again, sadly.

WEDDING #2 : LOAFING AROUND March 17/18 2012

(I got so far behind with this diary/blog that I am only writing it days later. No doubt there will be less detail than for earlier entries as a result)

It was cool when I woke up and looked out of the stable door to our room. The foliage at The Stables doesn’t give much of a view of the sky and since the sun had not risen yet, I thought it looked OK – there didn’t seem to be any clouds. Once there was a bit more light as a drove through a slight shower on my way to the pool, I realised there were no visible clouds because the whole sky was nothing but high level cloud.

There were cyclists and runners everywhere again. I had forgotten how these Kapenaars seem so very keen on their exercise. Although the major cycle race is over until next year, there is a major marathon following a similar track which is run after Easter each year. It has an enormous field, so all these keen folk were training for that event.

It was raining again at Kalk Bay when I stepped out of the car and went down to the pool and it was quite cool. We had been concerned about the weather because Kate’s wedding was to be held at 17h00 but the forecast was for a good afternoon and there were patches of blue breaking out to the South. By the time I’d finished my swim there was a bit of weak sunshine and sure enough, by the time I’d had my breakfast, the clouds had evaporated and the sun was out in full force. Unfortunately someone had stolen the shower head at the pool so I had to drive home sticky with salt.

Rab had an early appointment with the hairdresser, so we gave Lola’s tasty breakfast a miss and I took her down to the salon. Fortunately there was a restaurant – Tribeca – adjacent, and they had free WiFi. So I was able to have an American breakfast  - well, not quite because the pancakes were a curious size; about a silver dollar size, but three times as thick. But I got bacon eggs and maple syrup with them and that was fine for me. It reminded me of many happy meals we’d had on our US visits where breakfast is usually the most reasonably priced meal of the day. An important issue in the early days of our travels when funds were really tight. I read the Australian papers in my iPad as I sipped my excellent cappuccino – that’s something that’s a bit difficult to find in the US – and felt somewhat guilty since I was occupying a table in what turned out to be a very busy restaurant as all the cyclists trooped in to refuel.

Minnie

We had a lazy day. Rab and Lola chatted away pretty well non-stop and I got on with my blog which was running a couple of days behind at that stage. At least until Lola’s daughter Vicki  turned up with two year old son Oscar and mini-dachshund Minnie. That was a bit of a distraction. It was good to see Vicki and Minnie reminded us so much of our Barnaby. Although she is ten months old, she is still hyper-active and spent a good deal of time chasing the shadows of the butterflies. Oscar showed off his unusual swimming style. He is active in the water (and tells us he is a pretty good surfer, like his Dad) but can’t get his legs up to kick as he swims, so he paddles along with his head back and his mouth and nose just out of the water.

At lunch time Lola invited us to have a braai with her and Rick and Oscar. She gave me a shout and asked if I could help her with the fire and the cooking. I was happy to do this, although the fire wasn’t a bit light on charcoal and the cooking took longer than it should have done. But time was no problem, it was fairly cool under the shade of the extendable canvas, and the chat went on – so may years to review. I was trying to ‘sell’ Lola and Rick the concept of a big 50 Year Reunion in Australia next year with Jan and Ros – and to celebrate their Golden Wedding Anniversary, but I don’t think we’ll see them here. It’s a pity because Lola, in particular, with her interest in cooking would be amazed at the quality and diversity of the food here, while Rick would be amazed by the Australian Rules Football at the MCG.  But…..you can lead a horse to the water….not everyone enjoys travel as much as we do.

Kate and Steve, her father

We headed off to the wedding a little early because we weren’t sure how much traffic, parking or road work there was going to be. As it turned out, there was plenty of parking and very little traffic while the road workers had closed down for the weekend, apparently, so we were in good time. The eighteenth century church was originally built by a benefactor in memory of his daughter who had drowned at Danger Beach. It is a charming structure perched on the side of the hill overlooking the harbour and Bay beyond. The guests were all smartly dressed in contrast to some of the other weddings we have been to in the past few years, where, it seems anything goes. Kate’s brother Nick was an usher. He runs a shop selling graffiti based clothing and shoes and tends to dress like his clients, so we didn’t recognise him initially all scrubbed, shaved and suited.

Kate and Steve, her husband

It was a lovely service and at the end of it we all stood along the path leading from the church to the lych-gate with family at the end. The bridal couple and their year old daughter, Ella, processed between the lines of guests who showered them with rose petals, preceded by two musicians. One played the violin and the other a concertina and it added so much atmosphere – they were to continue to play for the best part of two and a half hours. Kate, Steve and Ella then led the wedding party to a small local park for casual photographs and then headed on up the hill to the small hotel where the celebration was to be held. We didn’t follow the parade as the sidewalk, streets and pathways are rough and the hill quite steep, so we drove up (and got a good parking spot!) and waited for the party to arrive.

The hotel is on three levels – the main public rooms at the upper level and two terraces below. A stone public staircase runs down the side of the grounds. The way Kate had arranged things had her and her Steve (not my brother Steve) coming down the steps, with the guests behind them, to a gate on the bottom terrace. There they formally welcomed the guests who entered the grounds, picked up a drink and chatted until the happy couple returned from their photographic section. 

The bride and groom join the party

Rab and I were stymied by the rough and steep steps leading down below to the so we sat up on the third level like those old blokes Statler and Waldorf in The Muppet Show, observing everything. It was odd being out of the mainstream of the party, and we laughed when we recalled the old folks from our youth who would sit quietly in the corner at functions and realized we had become them. In due course the drinks were over and we sat down amidst a lot of laughter and gaiety to an excellent meal.

I was fading badly by about 10h00 when the dancing started – why is the music so darned loud and cacophonous at functions these days, or is it merely that we are old and intolerant, so we bade everyone good night and made our way home. It was a lovely wedding and everyone was so happy. Nick had done a deal of design for Kate based on Kate and Steve’s profiles. One of the items was a large canvas on which we were invited to write a message. I wrote “Good luck to you both. May you be as happy as we have been for as long as we have – 45 years and counting.” Rab pointed out, when I told her what I had done, that it is only 44 years!!

 

LOAFING AROUND Sunday March 18 2012

 

When we said good bye and thank you to Stevie (the groom not the brother) last evening, he asked if I would be having my normal early morning swim the next day and offered as a piece of bait the plan to have Hot Cross Buns on the beach. I said I would, but thought it might be a  bit early for the buns, especially as he was looking set for a loooong evening. He assured me he would be there because he wanted a photograph of himself and his (very large) brother dwarfing the three Herbert brothers.

Needless to say we didn’t meet. The concept of ‘early’ morning had a different definition for the youngsters in the bridal party and me. My early morning was waking about 5.00 am, reading my mail and the internet papers, and then heading out for a swim at about 6.30. Their idea of an early morning was apparently to get to bed by 5.00 am. After the band stopped playing at the reception soon after midnight the party moved across to the Polana night club in the harbour . (The only place open after midnight for miles, according to brother Pad.) Brother Steve smuggled in his drink of the night – caramel flavoured vodka – and the party went on until….well, no one was quite sure. Estimates varied considerably, but then who looks at their watch when they are having fun? Who can read their watch in those circumstances?

They did all meet for buns on the beach somewhat later in the morning, having been held up while Stevie tried to catch a dassie (rock rabbit) that had entered the village from off the mountain.  By then I was long gone. It was a bit nippy early on and the water had cooled a degree or so, but the swim was, as ever, very invigorating and set me up for the day. The sun was breaking through the clouds in a spectacular way illuminating a small fishing boat returning to harbour with its catch.

We had nothing organised for the day, so just loafed around, catching up this blog a little, sorting out my pictures, chatting to Lorna, who popped around to see us, and Lola and Rick. We drifted down to see Sue and Mike in the afternoon and then I had me a little snooze before we went out for a meal.

We thought we’d look for a nice sole at Mamma Mia, a restaurant owned by the same people as the one where we had such a good meal last week with Lorna and Liz. We found when we got there that they were about to close down, beaten by an increase in rent which combined with the financial squeeze, had made the business no longer viable.  Obviously clearing out their storage they were offering ‘fresh crayfish’ and although we had our doubts about the freshness of the fish because the season was closed, we still thought it was worth trying. Mine wasn’t as good as it might be, but Rab enjoyed hers.

We slept well.

WEDDING #1: BUSY DAY March 14 and 15

A glrious morning in the tidal pool at St James

I decided to have a swim at St James again this morning to get some more pictures of the colourful beach boxes there. Pad strolled past on his morning walk – it was these chance meetings that were part of the pleasure of living in Kalk Bay.

The waves roll into St James Bay

The old buildings along the Main Road were bright in the sun. Most of those from St James to Muizenberg were built by the old ‘Randlords’ – the wealthy mining magnates who had opened up the hinterland when diamonds were found near Kimberley and gold on the Witwatersrand where Johannesburg stands today.

Rhode's Cottage

Rus en Vrede

The wealthiest of these men was Cecil Rhodes, one of the few people who have had a country named after them – Rhodesia, now Zambia and Zimbabwe. He died here, in a small cottage, which is now a museum, although not one visited by many of the local people, apart from some old whites worshipping at the feet of a colonialist, often regretting that the good old days have gone. Many feel that this humble cottage reflects the true spirit of the man – a man of the people etc – but in fact it was part of the property he bought on which he was to build the magnificent mansion now known as Rus en Vrede (Rest Freely) which is next door. Problem was he died before the work started.

Not Venice in fact

There are many other magnificent homes along this strip, most of them built in the early part of the last century and most of them behind high walls. One is a Japanese house made of papier mache which has been deteriorating for years. The present owner cannot afford the enormous amount required to restore it and can get no help from the associations that insist that it must be restored. Another house right on the road is built in the style of a Venetian palazzo, it is only now that I have seen these buildings in their place along the canals of Venice that the absurdity of having landing stages on a road are appreciated.

Het Posthuis

Also along this road is the building known as the Posthuis, said to be the oldest building in Southern Africa (by some!). it is certainly on the site of the old station where road tolls were collected on traffic to and from Simon’s Town, the safe port in winter and the main settlement of Cape Town, after the Dutch built the road. Just when that was is hotly debated by the experts. Some say it was soon after they arrived in 1652 when it served as a lookout post to spot enemy ships entering False Bay and as an indicator of the Dutch presence in the region. Others that it was built later.

We had been hoping that it would cool down a bit today for sister Angela’s wedding at Kommetjie and indeed the initial forecasts were for lower temperatures, but they still soared.

Surf's up!

Ang’s wedding was at 11h00 in the priory above Kommetjie and it made a good venue. Many of the guests, old surfing pals of Paul, the groom, had heeded the invitation to wear rainbow coloured clothes and were appropriately dressed – not too sure that the couple wearing bright Hawaiian shorts and shirts hadn’t gone a step too far? We hadn’t seen Ang’s son Berkley, who gave her away, for some years and, as is so often the case were astounded at how large he is – seems the Herbert genes are at work there. Her daughter, Fifi had also flown in from New Zealand – I didn’t recognise her at first since she had become blonde since we last saw her in London on our way back to Australia some six years ago.

The Happy Couple

Sister Ang

The reception was at a little café in the village and although Ang had thoughtfully placed us on a table in the shade on the veranda, where there was something of a breeze, I was still very hot and when she and the wedding party arrived from the photo shoot, I made our excuses and we left, so we didn’t stay for the speeches and other jollities. And there must have been a good deal of jollity planned as she asked if we could come back for the cutting of the cake ceremony estimated to be at 16h00 – four hours later.

It was good to be back in the air conditioned car, and as we were a bit peckish we decided to stop off at the Cape Fish Market for a bit of lunch. They offered us a seat on the veranda, but we took the cool inside seat option and had an excellent meal of grilled sole. They were pretty small, but we  got two each and they were delicious.

A cool shower after lunch, a bit of work on this blog, which is days behind and a nap and we were ready for yet another dinner, with good pals Di and Rupert. Good food, good talk reminiscing about the past and catching up with all the news, and then to bed.

BUSY DAY Friday March 15 2012

(I got so far behind with this diary/blog that I am only writing it ten days later. No doubt there will be less detail than for earlier entries as a result)

Dalebrook Pool at sunrise

It was overcast this morning when I looked out of the stable door although it was still warm. It looked as if it might rain, but I headed off to Dalebrook for my morning swim, getting there just as a shower came in off the Bay, wetting me and my towel. It was tremendous to be swimming again and my new cozzie made life more comfortable. The fact that the elastic had gone in my old one  made swimming, and especially diving in, awkward to say the least. None of the family turned up – presumably kept indoors by the showers.

The first of our social engagements was morning tea with my old boss, Joe and his wife Brenda. He was undoubtedly the best boss I ever had – no doubt he would respond to that comment with a wry smile and a comment concerning the quality of the other managers. I learned a good deal from him. He was, and still is, a gentleman in the old meaning of that word. Kind, considerate, wise. Now in his early 80s he has a number of what might be termed “medical mysteries” – issues that the medical profession cannot diagnose and therefore cannot treat. He finds it a little difficult to follow conversations at times and it is sad to see someone who was so quick on the uptake now battling to find a response. I known we all slow down with age – I can feel that myself, but…… he and Brenda live for their children in a house too big for them in a world which seems to be getting smaller all the time.

Our next date was lunch with Val, my erstwhile secretary at Constantia Shopping Centre which was convenient for both of us. We continued where we had left off the other day, chatting about people we hadn’t seen for years. Brother Pad wandered by and, as we found when we came to leave, had chosen to eat in the same café as we had.

Although the morning had started cooler, it had heated up again, so it was back to The Stables for my shower and snooze. I really need those to re-charge the batteries.

Lorna had invited us out for a dinner – and had included Lola and Rick – but they declined on the basis of busyness with the business, so the three of us went to a local steak house. It is odd to us that this class of restaurant has never caught on in Australia to any great extent – there are only five or six good steakhouses in Melbourne – because Australians are comparatively big meat eaters. The Cattle Baron where we went is a chain in SAfrica and I must say the quality of the food was excellent and good value, even for SAfricans. For us it was a bargain, even if Lorna hadn’t been paying. 

I had my eye on the ribs and have to say that they came up to the level of those magnificent ribs I had in Branson, Missouri which I have never  forgotten. And the price you could order 500 gm, 800 gm or 1 kilo of the delightful bones. I could not imagine eating two and a quarter pounds of ribs, although at A$20 for the serve, I could have left some  without too much guilt, so I ordered the 500gm at a little under A$10 and was satisfied with that.