On the subject of Lurking and Home Towns

Important notice to viewers: Please feel free to skulk.

Recently I got involved in an e-mail discussion regarding "Lurkers." There are a couple of bloggers out there who seem to take offence to people who read their postings and don't leave any comments, hence the term lurking. There are even blogs with stat counters blaring out the number of so-called lurkers on the site. Personally I love getting comments, nice ones mind you but this blog is obligation free. And seeing as lurking has a bad connotation let us rather coin the phrase "skulking." Skulking has a lovely connotation for me drawn from a bit of rather delicious dialogue between Hugh Grant and Andie MacDowell in Four Weddings and Funeral. So, please, skulk away!

Today is day number 8 here in Pretoria and the African Rain God is treating me to a good old Highveld rainshower. Yes, blogging suicide, talking about the weather but, to plagarise a bad song, "It's my blogspot and I'll slash my wrists if I want to..." One of the things that is missing in the forgotten province of the Eastern Cape is the good old thunderstorm. Down there it is mostly only the hard frontal rain that is accompanied by a gale force wind and devoid of spectacular thunderbolts and lightening. Occassionally we do have a scaled down thunderstorm back on the farm and it offers high entertainment value. Flyboy and I stand at the window and gape and gasp whereas the locals grab their kids, lock themselves in the pantry and start praying for deliverance. In my opinion you haven't lived until you have experienced a highveld lightening show, it's an adrenalin rush!

This last week has made me feel like a Soutie*. Not the Soutie meaning English but the original version of Soutie. It comes from the days of colonialism in this country. The Afrikaans community referred to the colonial Brits as Sout *insert Afrikaans slang for penis* because they had one leg in England, the other leg in South Africa and obviously there was a certain dangley bit being converted to a salted prune in the ocean in between. Well, barring the difference in countries and dangling anything in the ocean because that is physically impossible, I feel like I have half my heart is stuck in my home town and the other half stuck at home in the Eastern Cape.

For starters I walked into The Viking's office on Tuesday, he owns an IT company, and it felt like putting on a pair of old comfortable hiking boots. They just fit, mold to your foot and feel comfie. The wit was flying fast and furious, the laughter coming at the same speed and the work was being done. I miss those boots.

Pretoria is also a very pretty city. I've really enjoyed just driving around, seeing what has changed and laughing at the 'road fashion.' Yesterday we were on our way from Hartebeespoort Dam when The Viking's friend, PADI piped up from the back seat "Oh yes, we are in Pretoria." He pointed out the rather large man on an equally large cruiser type motorbike next to us, complete with the pee pot helmet and the required Mean Look. But then the picture went pear shaped because the shorts and flip flops he was wearing just spoilt the picture. And the next chirp from the backseat, "And the cellulite on his calves doesn't do it for me!" And they say women have claws!

Oh yes, having mentioned Harties I must report that I was spared the swimming costume humiliation. And a humiliation it would have been! There is a new breed of woman in the world, the Super Thin. It seems the Super Thin gene is a dominant one and Pretoria is busy evolving into a skinny city. I would love to know how these girls achieve the 'so thin I am going to fall through my rectum' look. Yes, I am green with jealousy because Super Thin turns heads and turning heads is always good for a girl's ego. Lucky me was a swimmer and canoeist at school and have a pair of shoulders that are useful to bear the mule-sized load they have to carry. The end result is a buxom girl with Davin Lee Roth hair. It seems these days girls are banned from doing sport at school. Is it anatomically possible to be so thin? Is it possible to carry out daily functions like walking when you don't possess any muscles? Marilyn Monroe, please come back and bring the age of voluptuous with you!

Aside from the frightening phenomenon of the Super Thin I had another scare. I have changed! I have become so mellow and chill I think I have become a double whiskey on the rocks. The stress levels are so high in SA's capitalist capitals that hurling abuse at moronic road users with cell 'phones glued to their ears is standard practice and doesn't even raise an eyebrow. When I say hurling abuse, I mean HURLING ABUSE. Maybe it is because the Eastern Cape drivers are really so bad that down there we have all become rather patient. I mean, you have to when you have Formula 1 Farmers around every turn and corner.

Pearl of Incredulity: I SMSed Maw on Friday night because I thought it would be adviseable not to 'phone her as we were in a family restaurant and a) I would hardly be able to hear her above the noise and b) she would want to know the details of where I was and with whom and I wasn't quite up to the third degree. The message was basically "Can't talk at the moment but just want to send my love." I got two panicked replies which I didn't hear unfortunately and then a 'phone call because she received a strange SMS from me and she was worried. Mom, TV is BAD for you!

A quick note on the subject of Maw, The Viking and I watched a rather predictable Jennifer Anniston movie last night, Picture Perfect. The Viking at one stage commented that the mother character was like the mother from hell. And there I was feeling like I was watching my own mother on TV.

* A direct translation from Afrikaans would be "salty."