Hi Ho, Hi Ho, It’s Off to Town I Go...
Honestly though, it isn’t as momentous an occasion as the 7 Dwarfs singing on their way to the mines. In fact, going to town down here is horrid! Even more so in view of the fact that while I was away Flyboy never once went shopping and there were four children in the house… four hungry children that went through the supplies like caterpillars through a vegetable patch. There was 2 and a half months of grocery shopping to catch up on – not a task for the faint hearted I might tell you.
The task is even more daunting when it has to be undertaken utilising BoB. BoB is my euphemistic name for Flyboy’s VW bakkie (that’s a pickup to those of you from other places). BoB stands for Bucket of Bolts – nuff said! It is also missing a few things, like a number plate in the front, kidney belts and built-in lumber punches in the backrests.
So, after swearing at the farm and all things farm related because I had to go through about sixty gates to get BoB out of his den and then another 32 gates to get to the tar road, I was set to tackle the “town.” And my knuckles no longer have skin on them – too complicated to explain but it involves wires, walls and cows.
However, I rebelled! For the first hour or so anyway, at 10:00 the Katt mane was trimmed at rather schwarmy salon. And I went to Maw’s afterwards. You see, I first had to go to the salon and get my hair washed to get rid of any residual cigarette smell. I work with a plan! Whilst raiding her cupboards I realised I was doing exactly the same thing The Viking does. Walks into his dad’s house and starts opening doors, fridges, anything that could possibly contain food. Like he said, we may have moved out of the house eons ago but it is still our God given right by nature of the bond with the owner of the house to raid their stocks. And their bookshelves! Well, three books, one piece of left over lasagne, three ginger cookies later (only because Maw wouldn’t let me open the full packet) and a dose of Sky News to catch up on the terrorist drama at the airports in the UK, I was revitalised enough to face the task at hand.
It must have been my day for rebellion because again, I rebelled. Woolworths was calling, and so was my Woolies card. After walking into the store I realised I am in big trouble. Heaven help us, it seems frills are back in fashion!!! Why? Someone, please tell me why? *News Flash* Ladies who matriculated in the 80s, it is time to go and dig out those frilly monstrosities called “Matric Dance Dresses” and party, party, party! There were two shirts that caught my eye, without frills I might add, 329.00 bucks for two shirts. That just seems obscene! But I’m supporting South African – I hope someone from the Textile Workers Industry reads this. Do I get a prize now or something?
And then I shopped, and shopped, and shopped. Oh, and rebelled AGAIN! I finally replaced my breadbin which the Strange Employers stole when we moved down here. It’s another long story but they have got so much money you would think they would buy their own bloody breadbin!
Oh, there was one thing that struck me as strange whilst driving through the nearest dump… I mean town. In South Africa we have a big problem with alien invader species (plants), right? This we all know. One of these is a plant called Australian Bug Weed – funny how most of our problem plants come from Australia… as do the problem rugby team. Rumour has it (and I call it a rumour because I have never seen this in action) that you will be fined and forced to remove it should you have this annoying sessile alien in your garden. Okay, apart from the one farmer down the road here who has a whole hedge of the stuff and the strange people in The Viking’s complex who seem to be nurturing theirs, I drove past a garden where they have made a cute little bed with flowers and all sorts of blooming things around the main focal point. A stunning, flourishing Australian Bug Weed. Huh? Where is Fauna and Flora when you need them?
So, enough of my “entertaining” day, what to do now? Probably should go get ready for another bloody meat tanning and liver pickling session. *sigh* Being carnivorous I never thought I would say this but I am so sick of red meat!
Actually, first on the list of things to do next seems to be feeding Hades Cat her wet Whiskas, before she shreds me… ouch! Stop that already!
The task is even more daunting when it has to be undertaken utilising BoB. BoB is my euphemistic name for Flyboy’s VW bakkie (that’s a pickup to those of you from other places). BoB stands for Bucket of Bolts – nuff said! It is also missing a few things, like a number plate in the front, kidney belts and built-in lumber punches in the backrests.
So, after swearing at the farm and all things farm related because I had to go through about sixty gates to get BoB out of his den and then another 32 gates to get to the tar road, I was set to tackle the “town.” And my knuckles no longer have skin on them – too complicated to explain but it involves wires, walls and cows.
However, I rebelled! For the first hour or so anyway, at 10:00 the Katt mane was trimmed at rather schwarmy salon. And I went to Maw’s afterwards. You see, I first had to go to the salon and get my hair washed to get rid of any residual cigarette smell. I work with a plan! Whilst raiding her cupboards I realised I was doing exactly the same thing The Viking does. Walks into his dad’s house and starts opening doors, fridges, anything that could possibly contain food. Like he said, we may have moved out of the house eons ago but it is still our God given right by nature of the bond with the owner of the house to raid their stocks. And their bookshelves! Well, three books, one piece of left over lasagne, three ginger cookies later (only because Maw wouldn’t let me open the full packet) and a dose of Sky News to catch up on the terrorist drama at the airports in the UK, I was revitalised enough to face the task at hand.
It must have been my day for rebellion because again, I rebelled. Woolworths was calling, and so was my Woolies card. After walking into the store I realised I am in big trouble. Heaven help us, it seems frills are back in fashion!!! Why? Someone, please tell me why? *News Flash* Ladies who matriculated in the 80s, it is time to go and dig out those frilly monstrosities called “Matric Dance Dresses” and party, party, party! There were two shirts that caught my eye, without frills I might add, 329.00 bucks for two shirts. That just seems obscene! But I’m supporting South African – I hope someone from the Textile Workers Industry reads this. Do I get a prize now or something?
And then I shopped, and shopped, and shopped. Oh, and rebelled AGAIN! I finally replaced my breadbin which the Strange Employers stole when we moved down here. It’s another long story but they have got so much money you would think they would buy their own bloody breadbin!
Oh, there was one thing that struck me as strange whilst driving through the nearest dump… I mean town. In South Africa we have a big problem with alien invader species (plants), right? This we all know. One of these is a plant called Australian Bug Weed – funny how most of our problem plants come from Australia… as do the problem rugby team. Rumour has it (and I call it a rumour because I have never seen this in action) that you will be fined and forced to remove it should you have this annoying sessile alien in your garden. Okay, apart from the one farmer down the road here who has a whole hedge of the stuff and the strange people in The Viking’s complex who seem to be nurturing theirs, I drove past a garden where they have made a cute little bed with flowers and all sorts of blooming things around the main focal point. A stunning, flourishing Australian Bug Weed. Huh? Where is Fauna and Flora when you need them?
So, enough of my “entertaining” day, what to do now? Probably should go get ready for another bloody meat tanning and liver pickling session. *sigh* Being carnivorous I never thought I would say this but I am so sick of red meat!
Actually, first on the list of things to do next seems to be feeding Hades Cat her wet Whiskas, before she shreds me… ouch! Stop that already!
posted by Katt at 5:30 pm
7 Comments:
haircut, shopping, visiting the mom... hectic, but better than staying home and doing housework!
Woolworths ... please share more about this place! I have read reference to it in several SA chick bloggies ... but need more info. Help ... any pics ...?
Smooch,
The Tart
; )
I've always said that the eastern cape had been invaded by aliens and nobody believed me.
Angel: You have a very valid point there!
The Tart: Woolies is a chain store, the trusty friend of any South African woman. You can buy clothes there but the big attraction is their food section. Every SA lady will admit popping into Woolies to buy yummy things for that impromptu party. Check out www.woolworths.co.za. I think it is based on the Marks and Spencer concept in the UK.
Kyk: Does that mean I am an alien invader too?
i loved woolies.. their sticky toffee pudding, very yum at 2 am after a hard day at work :D
Here's another woolies raver!
There are a few Woolworths stores in Germany - not a patch.
Marks & Spencer - that's the real
McCoy!
You crack me up!!!! I loved this post. As for the Alien Invaders and Kyk's comment - that is why we are such special people and you have to be nice to us or we will ZAP you to AB89-UI09 which is actually the planet we came from.....
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