The Madd House

I’m so sick and tired of people whining about the sad loss of our Rhino – the latest two in KwaZulu Natal brings the total deaths so far this year to 389.   In a high-pitched nasal whine:   “What are we going to tell our children?” and “This is just so dreadful.” and “Are they going to wait until they’re all gone before they do something?”   Well I’m saying: Why the hell should “ they ” do anything at all.   What are YOU doing? After having realised that I am not able to throw much money at the various hard working charities and there’s just no way I can climb in my car and head off to the game farms to help to physically catch these cowards I searched my soul to see how I could make a difference and realised that it was simple: boycott all the products from all the countries that deal in and with Rhino Horn. And back to these simpering, whimpering folk who cry crocodile tears with each loss of a Rhino’s life.   Do they drive cars or carry cell phones from Korea and Vietnam?

Tonight sees the last performance of the production “Soos die Kraai Vlieg” which has been put on by Jerry’s school.   And what a production!   The school has really outdone themselves.   The children have been rehearsing since early in the year and each and every single child in the school has participated in the concert.   Every last thing was very professionally handled, including the costumes, singing, lighting, lyrics, choreography, story line, songs, ticket sales, make-up, music, set design, dancing, programs, right down to the details of the welcoming decor in the foyer of the hall to the clearly numbered chairs and rows (with a picture on each letter).   Pre-recorded music and narration was used and many of the children’s talents were put on show.   So, with excitement and a little sadness, the children will put on their last show tonight. And the Moms heave a huge sigh of relief. Gone will be the whirlwind of rushing and junk food and plastering make-up on little faces a

I’m a blatant voyeur.   I can sit/stand for hours in a public place just watching people.   I frequent the social networks and, of course, Blogland just to get a tiny glimpse into people’s lives.   People fascinate me and I love to see what makes them tick and try and understand what type of people they are.   A bit unfair of me, I know, as I personally abhor it when anyone tries to categorise me into any type of social “box”.   But some folks are just so predictable and easy to square away into a certain character. Now that I travel a little further to work than before I get to peek at my fellow drivers. There’s the captain of the glee-club. She looks like an overenthusiastic puppy and happily waves everyone into the lane in front of her.   It’s a surprise she ever gets where she’s going.   Her car is full of all the appropriate charity stickers and she smiles, cries and laughs out loud at whatever is happening on the radio and is perfectly happy in her little bubble. The

Once again I have been confronted with the question: one child or many?   Every day I drive past a grossly overweight woman sitting in the shade of a tree with her baby and toddler whilst her other three raggedy children (somewhere between the ages of 5 and 12) stand in the blazing sun at a robot, begging.   And I’ve tried to involve Child Welfare but their hands are tied and there is nothing they can do about this blatant child labour. But be that as it may I still ponder the question: one child or many?   Séan and I made the decision when I was still pregnant with Jerry that we wouldn’t have more children and if I was able to go back I would make the same decision again in a heartbeat.   There is absolutely no way that we would be in a position to pay double the school fees that we are now paying and that’s just the tip of the iceberg: there are still clothes, uniforms, food, extramural activities, entertainment etc.   The thought of all these things times two or times three m

Ready to rock and roll.   Jerry’s school concert starts tonight – the first of six performances – and my little monkey is sooooo incredibly excited. But I felt awfully sorry for her earlier this week – she hasn’t been well, with a temperature, a sore tummy and a cough and Monday and Tuesday were dress rehearsals during school time. And I would have kept her home but it wouldn’t be fair on her or her schoolmates if there was a gap missing in their dance routine etc. So she had medicine poured down her throat and Séan fetched her early on Monday so she could sleep for the afternoon. Yesterday she went to aftercare and slept for about an hour there. Today she’s a lot better and this morning saw us pack a picnic and the afternoon will look like this: I’ll leave work about ten minutes early (thank you fabulous boss), fetch Jerry from aftercare, take her back across the road to the school, we’ll sit on the field and eat our picnic supper while I put her make-up on, all because t

Last week I had occasion to drive to Alberton.   I used the highways because, although it may not be the most direct route, it is certainly the most sensible.   (‘k, you can stop laughing now – I can be sensible if I try!) On the day of my big Alberton adventure Gauteng saw rain of Biblical proportions accompanied by wind gusting up to 65km/h.   Driving rain and gusting wind saw my little Dragon wafting all over the road (as only a Beetle can) to the extent that 80km/h was the absolute maximum I was able to travel at without taking off and flying through the rain clouds. And I became exasperated at the folk that leapt into my following distance.   Only someone with the brain capacity of a gnat would do something so completely stupid.   Surely, if I leave a gap between myself and the vehicle in front of me, it’s because I know my car and how long it takes to stop ... in the rain ... ?!?!? But of all the peculiar habits I saw the Gauteng road-users displaying – and there wer

Suffice to say that Spring, in all its springiness up and klapped me in the ear.  Big time.  To the extent that I finally got off my ever widening derrier and headed back out into the world of active exercise.  And it is certainly about time, too. Now I've never been opposed to exercise and, in fact, I've been waiting to settle into my new job and assess what time I have available before embarking on any type of routine.  So I esablished that, if there was any spare time to be had (and its up to me to create it), it would be in the mornings.  And this morning saw me heading off to our local Walk for Life branch to join up and chug around the field. Isn't it Run/Walk for Life, I hear you ask?  Well, um, ja.  But let me recount a painful memory and then you will understand why I don't use the "r" word - or even "j" for "jog". Many years ago I attended a gym.  As I say, I enjoy partaking in exercise and I used to be a regular gym attende