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.
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| 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.
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| Ostrich feather light |
Kitsch would be the bare
minimum description.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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