#GETITWHILEIT’SHOT2022

This is a serious publication so this announcement from ESKOM is vitally important:  —  officially, there is no light at the end of the tunnel, in fact there is no light to even try & find the tunnel. It’s not called the Dark Continent for nothing as droves of South Africans look for #potholeless & electrified pastures elsewhere  *  The “Harris 3” dodged the Corona curse until February 2022 & only found out they had it because Les suffered a very bad fall & was taken to hospital by ambulance. He tested positive & transported to the only hospital with a functioning Covid ward. The rare neuro degenerative ‘Multiple System Atrophy’ amped up to full blast & memory loss, balance & breathing became critical. More falls followed & between February & April, Les spent, intermittently, 46 days in hospital where it was determined he had fungus in his lungs, long Covid & was subjected to almost every test known to doctors including a table tilt test, ear test & brain function test. * There were physiotherapy & occupational therapy sessions & the most terrifying weight loss. Marilyn was sick with worry, while Stacey set about sourcing walking sticks, wheelchairs, handrails, walkers, knee guards & a chair for the shower which leads to singing. The Parkinsonian component jumped, well staggered to the fore with a pronounced right hand tremor & footsteps like a toddler learning to toddle. The outlook was dire but Les is a Scorpio & with sheer willpower & determination, he lifted that tail, put on his Arnold Schwarzenegger underpants & went back to driving, shopping & cooking. This man must be lauded & applauded on every level. * So distraught was Marilyn that she tripped up the stairs but thought nothing of it until her left leg doubled in size & her adorable GP sent her to hospital where it was discovered she’d suffered a deep vein thrombosis in the same leg as the first one, 45 years ago, 3 weeks after Allister was born. Three days in #hellonearth ICU & she was informed that she had to be taken off the magical Rheumatoid Arthritis Trial & would be on blood thinners for the rest of her life. Dazed, disappointed & discriminated against, she cried like a baby. This had been the most successful R.A. treatment she’d ever received. Her depression set in, her heart was hopping like the Energizer Bunny & her diabetes was all over the place. She promised to stop drinking Coke which made her even more depressed but when she heard she had to stop eating all green leafy vegetables – (not so bad) but, avo & asparagus??, she was ready to cross the rainbow bridge. Brittle bones, dangerously anemic & mentally unstable, investigations into why she’s still alive continue – watch this space!! *  Getting old is not for sissies. There was Marilyn, sitting on the loo, letting loose in preparation for a colonoscopy & gastroscopy, Les walked into the bathroom & said, “I need you to look at my bum.” “Where on your bum?” she asked. “Between my cheeks,” he explained as he separated them. It was not the size or the contents of the pimple that concerned her but the droop in the manparts.  * Allister continues to entertain with commentaries about life in Auckland, the locals, the islanders, the Chinese & the antics of his children – impossible to believe that Tye is 15, Sienna is 13 & Ezra is 6. The grass may be greener but it’s a very different green to home. *After 4 years of the most excruciatingly painful hips, Stacey saw an orthopedic surgeon & had a CGI, X-rays & a MRI & was sent to a neurosurgeon who said, “It’s surgery or a wheelchair!” Marilyn had suggested that a good roll in the hay was all she needed but allergic to both hay & rolling, she chose the spinal fusion & fled to Gateway, the hospital, not the iconic shopping mall – was out of bed on the second day, smoking with the doorman on the third & home on the fifth & followed doctor’s order down to the last letter & is claiming her life back in leaps & bounds. It was textbook perfect & one of the best decisions she’s ever made. The entire school missed her crazy antics, especially her class & her bus passengers. The Sagewood family showed far-reaching love & concern in so many ways. But the down side – on the way to fetch her from hospital, Les hit a piece of wreckage on the highway, punctured the radiator & had to rely on the kindness of friends to get the car towed & Stacey home. They will forever be in your debt – you know who you are. A million times thank you. * Throughout the year, lights stopped working for no particular reason, the geyser element went cold, the oven light, oven & hob went on the blink, as did the sewing machine, the one air con & the cake mixer. Expensive repairs to the washing machine lasted 3 weeks & a new one had to be bought. The pottery studio roof leaks & water in the swimming pool just disappears & they are pretty close to being declared both destitute & indigent – the ‘Harris 3’, not the pool and roof.  * It was spectacular seeing the Capetonians again after 11 years. Leslie’s brother Doug is still not a cat person so he really struggled with the 27 @ #11, but was delighted by the birthday tea Stacey organized at Sagewood, so they could see where she works & Mandy, also a teacher by trade was impressed. It was fantastic to catch up on all the family news. * So now with the FIFA World Cup in full swing, it is hoped that the reincarnation of ‘Casper The Friendly Ghost’, into “La’eeb” as the mascot, will remind the organizers of the thousands of migrant workers who died bringing the game to that country & their families that have not been compensated.  * Like a river, life can be cascadingly beautiful and full. The kindness of friends has been immeasurable.  But it can be raging or dried up – there has been great sadness too – a friend lost a child; there is cancer in the mix; the disappearance of Leslie’s cat Thor, affected him very badly & Ragertha tragically died of an unknown virus; loadshedding is taking a terrible toll on the entire country; the April flooding in KwaZulu Natal was of Biblical proportions, the cost & loss of life almost unimaginable; medical costs have surpassed even Elon Musk’s rockets; crime & corruption run rampant as roads remain unrepaired & water to certain areas not yet restored. There is so much strife, war & hatred everywhere in this apocalyptic world. But, as the great Satchmo declared, it still is a wonderful world. The family has received the most awesome gifts & the love & unwavering support are awe-inspiring & so deeply appreciated. Eat lots, get fat – you will be harder to kidnap. May you always be richly blessed, may you always have, love, laughter & good music in your life.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Pumpkin, Savvy, Rusty,  1 Abigail, 2 Carla, 3 Chickpea,

4 Coco, 5 CaramelloBear, 6 Duke,  7 Doogle, 8 Dante, 9 Eggsy,  10Enola Holmes, 11 Flea,

12 Juju, 13 Jasmine, 14 Jezebel, 15 Lightning, 16 Moana, 17 Maui, 18 Minnie Mouse, 19 Nunu, 20 Odin, 21 Pickles, 22 Phumba, 23 Quinny, 24 Shooga, 25 Smokey, 26 Tatty,

27 Tommy Lee Jones & 28 Vanilla.

& Les, Marilyn XXX & Stacey

CATSHIT #2

Then there’s the dilemma of mentioning all the wanderers. We have more than twenty cats. Yes, you read that right. Are we crazy, probably? Why, I hear you gasp in utter disbelief? Your house must smell like a sewer. I have to admit that when we have a man of the road popping in for a bit of fun with a lady of the night, he sometimes will let us know he’s been here and then all our males will save all their urine and spray all over his scent with much gusto.

Not all of the cats are here all of the time. Many choose to live in the gardens of neighbours.

Our cats are potty trained. They are also indoor/outdoor cats. The spare bedroom window is open 24/7 and they come and go at will. Isn’t that dangerous, I hear you say, wide-eyed and anxious? Yes it is, but they were, for the most part, born in a thicket or tree stump or in a roof, or washed off a roof and the total indoors is just too much for all of them and at twenty-something litter trays for us, unthinkable.

All our animals are sterilized and up-to-date with their inoculations and dewormed and generally, tick and flea free but we live in a rural area with lots of grass and other animals that wander around on the outskirts of our little piece of paradise and somehow the unwanted little buggers find their way onto our property.                             

We also have three dogs – Savvy is and Indigenous Whippet a.k.a. :  Zulu hunting dog or pavement special and was saved by our vet – she contracted Erlichia which went to her brain and she was paralyzed but she’s completely fine now, perhaps a bit more skittish and very highly-strung but the most fearless guard dog and mother to so many of our rescued kittens. Then there is Pumpkin, a completely black dog with orange eyes and a black tongue. Pumpkin is part Chow and she has the black tongue to prove it. People are terrified of her but Savvy is the one to be weary of as she’s highly unpredictable.

Yes, there are drugs in the house. Poor Pumpkin has hip dysplasia and receives a CBD tablet every night. We were looking at thousands for conventional treatment, but good old Mary Jane has helped her pain beyond measure. In case you’re wondering, it is specially formulated for dogs, a good things as we don’t have to share our stash.

Then, there is Rusty, part Maltese, part Yorkie who, like Donkey in “Shrek,” never shuts up. He will lick the burglar to death and his only mission in life is to sit on your lap, a lap, any lap as long as it’s a lap!

There are only three dogs and they are more annoying that all the cats put together. They have no manners, they jump up and beg and won’t get off the chair you want to sit on. The three of them are loud alarms – when Rusty barks, we ignore him; if Savvy growls, we look up and check, but when Pumpkin barks, we all jump up and look around.

Now you will know this already, they sleep on our bed, all three of them and in winter, anywhere from six to ten cats. If we were buried in a cloud of volcanic ash, people would say “Look at this, cats have always been in charge as can be seen by their human and dog servants.” True story.

You just know how much your dog loves you because you’ve just popped out to the shop, but when you get back, the dogs are barking, whining, running about, tails wagging, they’re jumping up all over the place, as though you went to explore the Arctic.

If we are lucky, one cat may lift its head and open one eye and go straight back to sleep.

I couldn’t tell you for certain where the whole pecking order idea came from but I can tell you, it exists. Almost all the cats know their place in the hierarchy except Vanilla. This tiny little kitten was saved by a sheer miracle. We found her mother and brought her inside – she was ravenous and that’s when we saw she was lactating. We let her out of the house and followed her, saw where she disappeared into and it was almost a bit Jumangi-ish to get the kitten out, but we prevailed. Spice is the mother and we called the kitten, ‘Vanilla.’ When she was still tiny, Vanilla fell off the kitchen counter and was in a cast for a few weeks having damaged her back leg. Her recovery was complete. We can’t say for sure exactly when we noticed she kept walking into things.

It was devastating to hear that she is almost completely blind. Our vet very kindly has said that he has never seen a blind cat in such good condition. As long as we don’t move any furniture, she makes her way all over the house and garden. It may be difficult to believe but she hunts and is an ace at catching low flying moths! Then she eats them and washing her face after the meal, I swear that look says, “Bring it on!”

Flower Power

Spring has sprung in the Southern Hemisphere and I am quite beside myself with joy.

It has been a long, cold winter which does not sit well with my rheumatoid arthritis. There is always a sense of expectancy and anticipation, a renewal and flowers everywhere. The Swallows will soon return from Estonia and a large crowd will gather to welcome them home.

When I was in primary school, this was the day the public swimming baths opened. The class would be wild with excitement, except for me. I was only allowed to go if there had been a substantial downpour of rain that settled all the dust and got rid of all the germs. I don’t know what the reasoning was behind this……

I remember more spring days that I could not swim than ones when I could.

Schools use the occasion to raise funds and the kids can wear civvies and usually have to make a Spring Hat – even the boys get involved. It’s a fun-filled day and enjoyed by pupils and teachers alike.

And now I’m off to smell the roses. Happy Spring Day to you.

CATSHIT

I have long wanted to tell the comprehensive story of our cats. I started to think about it three years ago.  But where to begin? At first I thought I’d go with a general description of them all but then it would sort of be, tabby, white, black, coloured and you can’t say that anymore. It has to be politically correct.

To write about our catastrophe of cats, I need a context, a foundation and some of what goes into our success with rescued cats, as we see it. The we – husband of forty-seven years and adult daughter who is a teacher by day and a crazy cat lady the rest of the time. We all love animals and rescue spiders, wasps, really big man eating ones. We do our best to rescue any half alive bird brought into the house as a gift. Anti-feral cat people tell you that ferals are killing millions of birds every day, which I think must be taken with a substantial pinch of salt. Domestic cats love to catch and kill birds – they don’t always eat them and bring them in as offering to their human. Scientists attribute this to boredom.

I am rather impressed that many of the common bird species we had in the garden contacted their estate agent and moved away, hopefully to safer gated communities. Even the many weaver birds have become extremely street smart and their nests are at the top of the very tallest Fever Tree. They swoop down to pick a shred of grass and are airborne almost immediately.

Geckos and skinks must have passed on the news that this is a #nogozone, as once upon a long, long time ago they were plentiful, including the beautiful blue headed lizard, now there’s no sign of them!

Our house is old and rambling, large by any standard. There are four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a separate dining room and a large open plan kitchen and living area. Outside there are the requisite servants quarters, (from the bad old days), a separate laundry and a small cottage that is our pottery studio. There is a rather large shade house too, home of the daughter’s other passion – orchids.

We have avo, mango, litchi and macadamia nut trees, as well as many others that we do not know the names of, but they provide berries for the birds and thick foliage, too high and hidden from the cats – thank goodness, where all sorts of birds nest and are heard to chirp and chatter. The small swimming pool awaits repairs. The garden should be overflowing with bugs, but this is not so because our cats are relentless hunters and no creature is too big or too small to be stalked, pounced on and played with!

The only unwanted creatures are the snails. Man, they are annoying. They eat anything and everything, especially the prized orchids and cymbidiums. These are not the escargots type. There is also the principle of #alllivesmatterevensnails.

The cats have been known to play with and eat small frogs which they immediately projectile vomit over everything. Fortunately, bats do a bit better – they seem to be killed immediately and we had the pleasure of rescuing, restoring to health and releasing into the wild, a solitary specimen.

There are yards of sprawling Jasmine, big flouncy bushes of Gentleman’s Agreement and palm trees. Our climate is supposed to be sub-tropical but some days it feels like the epicenter of the true topics. The humidity swamps you in a heavy cloak of sheer moisture but the cats never complain. They stretch out completely and hardly move as they seem to hardly breathe. The vague peep of an eye is usually all that alerts you to life or death.

and so it begins …

Blogger Blues

I want to be a blogger so badly. I want hundreds of followers. I want to write about important, meaningful stuff. There will be all my angst and sadness about so many things that almost push me over the edge. I should write a blog every day – (never going to happen, I hear you say), once a week or once a month, maybe. So – there is nothing, nada, zilch.

Blogging I think, would be so much easier if I had a laptop, which I don’t have, but that’s another story.

Just when I get the bum on the seat and drag out my steely determination, life throws me a curve ball.

So much has gone wrong this year that if I listed it all, it would make you cry, but I’m only going to mention my most recent curve balls.

At the end of April it was discovered I had a DVT (Deep Vein Thrombosis) and had to spend two weeks in hospital. I had to go off the dedicated rheumatoid medication, which  for a good number of years has been miraculous.  Upon arrival at home, I was filled with joy – hospital is not for sissies. But then the flare-ups started because I could no longer take the miracle RA drug. That means days in bed with much of my body feeling like it was on fire.

Now I have a diabetic ulcer that needs specialist care. I drink Coke, which I know is the scourge of the earth. My doctor asked “If you know you’re diabetic, why are you drinking Coke?” So I said to the doctor,” I’m going to die soon, at least I’ll die happy!” It was not the right answer.

I have to see an endocrinologist soon and she won’t treat me because I’m diabetic and shouldn’t be drinking Coke. So I had to promise I would stop. Perhaps I will lose weight. I did stop drinking Coke and I have lost weight.

Both my ankles and feet are so swollen, my toes look like little cocktail sausages and I should be lying down with my legs propped up higher than my heart, like a lady of the night in some kinky brothel. I have too much to do to be lolling about on the bed. Something is out of sync – my heart, lungs, kidneys or something else.

On the same day I had to have blood tests and it was discovered that my blood is DANGEROUSLY thin – I have to take Warfarin because of the DVT so that’s going to need very close monitoring.

So the depression has set in and is yet another reason why I don’t feel like blogging.

A Real Blogger

I want to be one. A real blogger, that has a great following from all around the world and even Mars – maybe? But right now I am battling headaches. I have also been very stressed because my husband of forty-seven years has been in hospital for over three weeks. This is the fourth stay this year.

In February we were all struck down by Covid-19, to our shock and horror. For Les, this seems to have kicked up the M.S.A. a few notches.

It feels like everything went wrong. Our daughter has to have spinal surgery, our washing machine still isn’t working and just when I was about to say,”at least it isn’t raining!” I shouldn’t have even thought that because on the 11th of April, the heavens opened and a flood of Biblical proportions struck Kwazulu Natal,. our holiday province. It was Easter time – inland winter had already bitten and we were ready to welcome residents, as it’s usually still warm enough to swim in the Indian Ocean.

It poured down for days and days and days. Where there never ever was a stream, a bubbling brook, a trickle, the water just collected itself into massive run-offs, sweeping away whole communities, informal settlements and solid brick houses. Rivers burst their banks, bridges collapsed and potholes were turned into giant craters. More than four hundred people lost their lives in the most devastating circumstances.

This is when you know how lucky you are to have a house that withstood the deluge, warm food, a dry bed and for the most part, a certain sense of safety and security. t has been a particularly difficult time.

But that is not what this short blog is about. All of the above made it impossible for me to even look at the keyboard. I’ve done no writing and I have to say I’ve really missed it and that’s why I knuckled down today to get this topic loaded.

The other day I almost killed my husband. It wasn’t a crime of passion, or even annoyance, although there have been times in the past when I felt like it.

No, this was sheer determination to help as best I could. So while he parked comfortably on the toilet bowl, he shaved and I suggested a basin bath. He agreed and vigorously washed his hair and I added a bit of extra hot water to pour over the nether region – we almost had great balls of fire

Anyway, he recovered enough to have me rinse him off all over, which I did with much gusto. The floor was awash with water, resembling a Turkish bath house!  Not that I’ve ever been in one, but I have a great imagination …..

He stood up and we pretty much dried everything, mopped up a safe dry path for his exit – he took two steps and just fell over. He gained scratches on his back that could have been attributed to a night of fun at the cat house, a black eye and various bruises that made him look a losing boxer.

To cut a long and painful story short, we managed to get him dressed and on the bed.

We now have a very fancy shower chair and I have been warned that there will be loss of life if I ever attempt anything like this again in my whole entire life.

And so, the decent into the realms of M.S.A. and Parkinson’s begins.

COVID-19 OMICRON 2022

The worst thing about Covid which I’ve just discovered is the test. The nurse, planted squarely in front of me, issued a dire warning that if I move it will be very bad and will really hurt – I’m surprised that she didn’t ask me not to breathe. It was so uncomfortable and the thing she stuck up my nostril, felt like a heavy duty chisel, for all that is was light and almost as thin as a toothpick. It was so ticklish and it itched and all I wanted to do was sneeze.

The positive result was not unexpected because my husband had just been admitted to hospital after a very bad fall. That’s when he found out that he had it! So our daughter Stacey who lives with us – her positive result was a given.

The next worst thing was losing my sense of taste and smell. Everything smells or tastes funny and as much as you long for, let’s say, a toasted chicken sandwich, once it’s in your mouth it tastes like garbage and smells like it too.

For the past two years we have been exceptionally and scrupulously careful, avoiding large gatherings, keeping our distance, always wearing a mask and sanitizing EVERYTHING! And just when things have slowed here a little, we get it …..

Stacey and I have severely compromised immune systems because of the Rheumatoid Arthritis and the husband and I have every co-morbidity known to man.

We have read everything we can find about what to do at home and with instructions and medication from our specialist we are doing it all by the book.

For the past two years, everywhere I’ve been, (mostly doctors and dentist), have I had even the slightest rise in temperature. The total exhaustion has been very frustrating but only the coughing has raged, even the feeling of being out of breath wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t anywhere near the worst bronchitis or pneumonia I’ve had.

My only hope is that when we get to Mars those little green creatures are immune or once again, we’ll be responsible for changing the entire course of history.

The Harris 2021 #Howzit?

It seems a bit ridiculous writing the annual letter when it’s barely past October, but time & the postal service wait for no man! What a cracker of a year this has been. Covid-19 continued to take our breath away. Sh*t, who would ever have thought we would live through a pandemic?  Thousands of scientists, real people in real laboratories with real (not bought) degrees & years of experience), all around the world, spent millions of man hours rolling out a vaccine. And who knew that there were that many idiots in the world? I don’t know what’s in it/it’s the mark of the devil/it’s governments tracking our every move – well Ernie, who’s watching my monitor must be bored sh*tless. The images of pyre after burning pyre coming out of India were almost unbelievable. Rhino’s continue to be poached, meanwhile, plastic & climate change are taking over the world. At least Elon Musk has his own rocketark & I’m very proud to say he comes from Mzanzi! There has been taxi violence. Taxi bosses stopped commuters from using public transport. Potholes get bigger. We have had rain, lots but, in Africa we never complain, because drought is but a whisker away. An ex-president was locked up & his supporters were a bit disgruntled & decided to protest but then the pawpaw hit the fan & there was fruit salad everywhere. The rioters blocked all the roads, set flatbed trucks alight & looted EVERYTHING – washing machines & fridges that couldn’t fit through their front doors. Who was going to buy these large items anyway?  The police ran out of ammunition. They ran out of everything – no vans, no petrol, no officers, no water cannons. They just stood & watched. And where was the army? It looked like the apocalypse! We were scared sh*tless. I seem to be using that word a lot but it really was a sh*tshow of note. And while this was happening, those that chose greener shores, cried and prayed. The old man has undergone a few name changes from Les, to Chucky to Chunky – also ‘Mr. Wobbly Man’ after all the serious & very bad falls but we thought that ‘Big Ears’ was more appropriate. It was time to model his new birthday underwear, as in Paris Fashion Week style, trying to walk in a straight line & claiming he was still a stud. Stacey & I disavowed him of this ludicrous idea & changed it to dud, even better, Granddud! J But seriously, what a keeper he is. My mother always said we’d never stay together. Sh*t! He shops and chats, usually about football – he’s gone for hours! Tiger is all set to call out “Chicago Fire. J He has joined that most famous ‘70’s club! He did it in style with a snowball & one candle. For those who don’t know, this is a small round cake covered in bright pink icing & coated in coconut. Pottery totters along & his vegetables grow, which we need because I’m tired of trying to find money under furniture.L The tentative suggestion of M.S.A. – MULTIPLE SYSTEM ATROPHY, a rare neurodegenerative disease, causing autonomic dysfunction is devastating, but we’ll get through it, the 3 of us. Stacey played dress-up this year for school – she went as a Viking from How To Train Your Dragon, for fave book day, Professor von Poopypants for Careers Day & wore a school uniform with all the other teachers, just because. Her Grade 2 class were treated to real kite flying, making & eating candy floss in class & continue to astound with their comments & witticisms’ while doing the most amazing art & projects that included building bridges & castles. Still the only white girl in the ubiquitous white taxis in KZN. The aftercare has been spectacular & Chucky taught them how to gamble, using stones, Tiger made them #pizzatoast & showed them how to eat a chip (crisps) sandwich. Our immeasurably magical daughter Stacey, has shopped, borrowed money when we didn’t have any, driven us around, been worried sick by all the things that are wrong with us, has kept the peace on a daily basis – (she’ll be able to join the Peace Corps soon – she did her training at home), she braai’s like a professional but cooking in the kitchen – not so much. During the” troubles” it wasn’t the bottle stores being closed that was a bother, it was nails for her coffin.  The underground #blackmarket had her reading strange descriptions of awful tobacco, but, SH*t, when needs must.  Stacey who has to say everything 3 times – one deaf person was enough, but two!?! Sh*t!! Tigger & Vinny Jones died but we still have 3 dogs & 30 cats & some lovely orchids. We laugh. A lot. And swear. A lot. Princess reigns supreme – best housekeeper EVER. Marilyn Anne, otherwise known as Tiger, like a spoilt & naughty child, refuses to wear her hearing aids & with the family gene of bad teeth, hers are vrot. So she was deaf & almost toothless but then her adorable dentist set her up with new teeth that have her looking spectacular. However she whistles & lisps when she speaks! A hidden plot to silence the old bat perhaps?  Sh*t! She also refuses to stop swearing, being argumentative & she likes nothing better than to embarrass unsuspecting strangers. J For Halloween this year, she’s just going to take her teeth out, paint her face green & scare the children with her grossly deformed hands & feet. She joined a writers club, entered a short story competition & won – money –good times. Her “Book of the Dead” is a joy to behold. The house is falling apart – then the oven stopped working, there was a bang & the whole stove stopped working & then the microwave died & so did the sewing machine. I swear appliances talk to each other.  We still managed to see good friends.  We have an active volunteer neighbourhood watch & an excellent security company -crime is rife in town & the estate is still not secure. Heads up to Spry Financial Services, the dentist, vet, and bestie Susan, specialists, pharmacist and their phenomenal staff members, all our magical friends too. There were deaths, so shocking we’re still reeling.  If Covid-19 taught us anything, it’s get your will drawn up, talk about what has to happen once you shuffle off this mortal coil & tell those around you, that you love them because it’s always too soon until it’s too late. I’ve learned to enjoy the small things, good books, blogs, flowers, sunrises, strange clouds, (mind you, those may just be from puffing on the green stuff), butterflies & Facebook posts. So I say drink the gin, eat the cake, love the ones you’re with & find small things to enjoy amongst all this turmoil. Best wishes for a stupendous Christmas & much love and money in 2022.

Les, Marilyn XxX and Stacey.

Merry Misery

While the rest of the world is out celebrating, partying and insanely shopping, I plunged to the depths of a deep dark hole.

On the 31^st of October the sorrow of loss kicks in as this was the day my son left South Africa to start a new life in New Zealand. At the beginning of November, I commemorate the death of my much younger brother and on the 27^th, my birthday, I feel that pain again as this was the day my daughter-in-law and my three grandchildren flew out to join my son. It’s personal. I know I will never see them again and I am left with all the ‘I should have’s.’

This year, in a valiant effort to beat the blues, I listened to all my favourite Christmas songs and carols and even got all dressed up and went to the Women’s Institute Christmas Lunch which was quite spectacular. We have tried for many years to strengthen our beautifully decorated Christmas tree from the marauding cats, to no avail but this year we hung the baubles on a string, way out of their reach. I also stuck some Christmas cards and postcards up. Remember those days? Post from across the globe, pouring in  and helping to promote the Christmas spirit. Sadly this is no longer so – jolly festive emails just don’t cut it.

To make matters worse, there was the whole debacle of my rotten teeth and more dentures than just partial. Once fitted, I felt vaguely human, but then they were broken by the well-meaning love of my life – I’m glad it was him and not me. LOL.

Now I have an infection in my gums.

The housekeeper is on annual leave.

The poor daughter is in so much pain from the Rheumatoid Arthritis she can hardly walk.

I have been relatively pain free and forget what a bad flare-up feels like, which is what I’m going through right now.

There is also the pain of so much suffering in the world from the dreaded pandemic.

To make matters even worse, I dropped a box on my foot, in itself, no big deal but this is the foot that was operated on to remove a huge bunion and nodules. The orthopod placed a specially made plate from my foot to my big toe to keep it together and like a heart transplant, my body rejected it. It was so badly infected it cost me a month in hospital – this was years ago, almost forgotten, but I was painfully reminded.

At first the pain wasn’t so bad but then it began to pulse and I was in so much pain I had visions of the replacement pin broken or dislodged and all my bones crumbling to mush.

It’s fine as long as I stay off it so the kitchen elves will be left to their own devices to cook the Christmas lunch, a long-standing  tradition of roast turkey and gammon with all the trimmings. At least there will be lots left over so we won’t have to do much cooking for quite a few days.

I’m such a drama queen – I carry on as though all this is the end of the world and it isn’t, I know. I was delighted by the judge’s comments on my recent short non-fiction story entry and I am determined to write more too.

I love every moment of the movie, “Home Alone” – the house, the decorations and the lights. That’s what Americans do best – teeth and Christmas lights.

I am always grateful for everything that I have, bunions, no teeth and all.

So may peace, joy and love surround you this Christmas time.

The Harris 2021#Howzit

It seems a bit ridiculous writing the annual letter when it’s barely past October, but time & the postal service wait for no man! What a cracker of a year this has been. Covid-19 continued to take our breath away. Sh*t, who would ever have thought we would live through a pandemic?  Thousands of scientists, real people in real laboratories with real (not bought) degrees & years of experience), all around the world, spent millions of man hours rolling out a vaccine. And who knew that there were that many idiots in the world? I don’t know what’s in it/it’s the mark of the devil/it’s governments tracking our every move – well Ernie, who’s watching my monitor must be bored sh*tless. The images of pyre after burning pyre coming out of India were almost unbelievable. Rhino’s continue to be poached, meanwhile, plastic & climate change are taking over the world. At least Elon Musk has his own rocketark & I’m very proud to say he comes from Mzanzi! There has been taxi violence. Taxi bosses stopped commuters from using public transport. Potholes get bigger. We have had rain, lots but, in Africa we never complain, because drought is but a whisker away. An ex-president was locked up & his supporters were a bit disgruntled & decided to protest but then the pawpaw hit the fan & there was fruit salad everywhere. The rioters blocked all the roads, set flatbed trucks alight & looted EVERYTHING – washing machines & fridges that couldn’t fit through their front doors. Who was going to buy these large items anyway?  The police ran out of ammunition. They ran out of everything – no vans, no petrol, no officers, no water cannons. They just stood & watched. And where was the army? It looked like the apocalypse! We were scared sh*tless. I seem to be using that word a lot but it really was a sh*tshow of note. And while this was happening, those that chose greener shores, cried and prayed. The old man has undergone a few name changes from Les, to Chucky to Chunky – also ‘Mr. Wobbly Man’ after all the serious & very bad falls but we thought that ‘Big Ears’ was more appropriate. It was time to model his new birthday underwear, as in Paris Fashion Week style, trying to walk in a straight line & claiming he was still a stud. Stacey & I disavowed him of this ludicrous idea & changed it to dud, even better, Granddud! But seriously, what a keeper he is. My mother always said we’d never stay together. (Ha!) Sh*t! He shops and chats, usually about football – he’s gone for hours! Tiger is all set to call out “Chicago Fire. He has joined that most famous ‘70’s club! He did it in style with a snowball & one candle. For those who don’t know, this is a small round cake covered in bright pink icing & coated in coconut. Pottery totters along & his vegetables grow, which we need because I’m tired of trying to find money under furniture. The tentative suggestion of M.S.A. – MULTIPLE SYSTEM ATROPHY, a rare neurodegenerative disease, causing autonomic dysfunction is devastating, but we’ll get through it, the 3 of us. Stacey played dress-up this year for school – she went as a Viking from How To Train Your Dragon, for fave book day, Professor von Poopypants for Careers Day & wore a school uniform with all the other teachers, just because. Her Grade 2 class were treated to real kite flying, making & eating candy floss in class & continue to astound with their comments & witticisms’ while doing the most amazing art & projects that included building bridges & castles. Still the only white girl in the ubiquitous white taxis in KZN. The aftercare has been spectacular & Chucky taught them how to gamble, using stones, Tiger made them #pizzatoast & showed them how to eat a chip (crisps) sandwich. Our immeasurably magical daughter Stacey, has shopped, borrowed money when we didn’t have any, driven us around, been worried sick by all the things that are wrong with us, has kept the peace on a daily basis – (she’ll be able to join the Peace Corps soon – she did her training at home), she braai’s like a professional but cooking in the kitchen – not so much. During the” troubles” it wasn’t the bottle stores being closed that was a bother, it was nails for her coffin.  The underground #blackmarket had her reading strange descriptions of awful tobacco, but, SH*t, when needs must.  Stacey who has to say everything 3 times – one deaf person was enough, but two!?! Sh*t!! Tigger & Vinny Jones died but we still have 3 dogs & 30 cats & some lovely orchids. We laugh. A lot. And swear. A lot. Princess reigns supreme – best housekeeper EVER. Marilyn Anne, otherwise known as Tiger, like a spoilt & naughty child, refuses to wear her hearing aids & with the family gene of bad teeth, hers are vrot. So she was deaf & almost toothless but then her adorable dentist set her up with new teeth that have her looking spectacular. However she whistles & lisps when she speaks! A hidden plot to silence the old bat perhaps?  Sh*t! She also refuses to stop swearing, being argumentative & she likes nothing better than to embarrass unsuspecting strangers. For Halloween this year, she’s just going to take her teeth out, paint her face green & scare the children with her grossly deformed hands & feet. She joined a writers club, entered a short story competition & won – money –good times. Her “Book of the Dead” is a joy to behold. The house is falling apart – then the oven stopped working, there was a bang & the whole stove stopped working & then the microwave died & so did the sewing machine. I swear appliances talk to each other.  We still managed to see good friends.  We have an active volunteer neighbourhood watch & an excellent security company -crime is rife in town & the estate is still not secure. Heads up to Spry Financial Services, the dentist, vet, and bestie Susan, specialists, pharmacist and their phenomenal staff members, all our magical friends too. There were deaths, so shocking we’re still reeling.  If Covid-19 taught us anything, it’s get your will drawn up, talk about what has to happen once you shuffle off this mortal coil & tell those around you, that you love them because it’s always too soon until it’s too late. I’ve learned to enjoy the small things, good books, blogs, flowers, sunrises, strange clouds, (mind you, those may just be from puffing on the green stuff), butterflies & Facebook posts. So I say drink the gin, eat the cake, love the ones you’re with & find small things to enjoy amongst all this turmoil. Best wishes for a stupendous Christmas & much love and money in 2022.

Les, Marilyn XxX and Stacey.