The Madd House

Autumn is, by far, my favourite season.   The skies become a crisp blue and it’s distinctly chilly in the mornings and evenings.   The dew on the grass reminds you to enjoy your last few weeks of wearing sandals.   I always feel a sense of anticipation as though something exciting is about to happen.   For almost all of my life it has been my own personal “New Year”.   My time for introspection and for weeding out my mind.   Some of my biggest life decisions have been made during Autumn.   Sometimes it creeps up without any warning, but not this year.   This year it waited for a Sunday evening and then appeared with pangs reminiscent of childbirth.   It started with a vague sinus headache, heralding the change of season, which slowly developed into a debilitating cramp on the left of my head and down the left side of my face.   Then panic set in.   I had arrived at nearly the end of Sunday and still had too much that...

I’m sick to death of the folk who moan and groan at the end of each year about just how catastrophic the year has been for them and how they hope the following year will be a better one and full of miraculous crap like rainbows, success, health and wealth.   Here’s a news flash: 2017 was a time period.   It was a gift handed to YOU to do with as you please.   How did you use that priceless, non-refundable gift? And I’m not talking about those who have really experienced a dreadful year.   I’ve had one or two of those in my life and I can testify that they aren’t easy.   This blog is for Joe Socks who celebrates the New Year and then stands with a simpering smile waiting for fabulous things to happen to them.   And then eleven months later they start whining about the fact that nothing wonderful happened. I’m here to tell you to suck it up, Cupcake.   Life doesn’t work that way.   You get given a year, for free, to do with as you p...

This weekend just past the universe thought it appropriate to teach me a little lesson in patience on the road.   May I begin by saying that, having displayed furious road rage all my driving life, I only really started making an effort not to send my anger-meter off the scale recently and this thanks to my beautiful daughter and my sage Krav Maga instructor.   But somewhere, somehow, someone decided this wasn’t good enough and I was taking too long.   Enter Saturday.   One way I try and ensure calm is to plan properly so as to be on time and afford myself a tranquil, smiley journey.   Saturday was no different.   My Jerry was participating at her year-end dance showcase.   She needed to be at the venue at 16h00.   It is approximately 30 minutes from my house.   Add 10 minutes for eventualities and off we go.   I decided to take Witkoppen (the most popular road from west-roughly to north-roughly).   We head merrily alo...

On Saturday, our fattest bullie, Wiggle (who also happens to be our quickest bullie) found and pounced on an adolescent hadeda in our garden.   I swatted at Wiggle while Séan swooped in (not unlike Divan Serfontein diving over the try-line) to save the birdie.   After I had herded the very excited dogs into the house Séan tossed the shocked hadeda onto our roof where it wandered up and down in a rather befuddled manner.   It eventually settled down in a sunny corner to contemplate its experience.   I had seen its parents fly north earlier that day – probably off to some family shindig or other, they’re very sociable birds.   Finally awakening from its stupor it wandered across to the very end of the roof and stood peering loftily down at us mere mortals.   We weren’t sure if the birdie could fly and, to be honest with you, I’m not sure if the birdie knew if it could fly.   About an hour later the hadeda half flew, half fell off th...

In order to choose a high school for next year this week saw us attending two open days at two different schools.   I shall call the one school the pink school and the other one the orange school.   These were my experiences:   Upon arrival : Pink – easily visible and nicely decorated arrival area where we were met and greeted by school pupils after which one of the pupils walked with each individual couple guiding us to a row of tables where smiling staff waited to register our details on laptops. Orange – drawn by the noise of three little girls playing music on a keyboard we found a row of tables containing laptops behind the three musicians.   I eventually found out from one of the other parents that we were supposed to register ourselves on the laptop and after waiting my turn was informed by a severely panicked and flapping staff member to “tab” after each piece of information before she darted off in another direction.   Squinting at the s...

I recently had the joy of looking after my neighbours’ furkids for a week. Anyone who says that animals don’t have unique characters and personalities is beyond ignorant, in my view. The matriarch of the clan (although this fact is hotly disputed by the cats) is a gentle old soul call Tessa. Tessa is a Rhodesian Ridgeback with lots of lovely, wise, grey fur on her face. Tessa has two personal henchmen: Max, a very puzzled Rhodesian Ridgeback (details to follow) and Dusty, an Australian Shepherd (I think) crossed with a shaggy rug. The three littlest furries consist of Brolie (aka Fat Cat), a charcoal and white stripy boy, Hayley, a teeny ginger ballerina of a kitty and Pikachoo (no idea how to spell his name), a handsome ginger and white cat. Now certainly the most colourful character would be Dusty. EVERYthing he does is big, over the top and loud. He jumps about like he has ants in his pants and demands non-stop games. And if I ignore him he will dash up to one of the ot...

As a square peg in a round hole I found it difficult to make friends as a kid. Other children found my weirdness, my outspokenness and my non-conformity disconcerting and avoided me as a result. As I’ve aged and come to know and accept my self more I’ve sought out other folk with a similar mindset. “Soort soek soort”, as they say. But as you can imagine having a “best” friend was nigh on impossible. No-one wanted to get that close to me! Grin! In fact, I can almost count my best friends in life on one hand – but five of them stand out in a big way. Here’s my story: My first best friend was a girl who had been in my class since Grade 1. We appeared to have quite a lot in common and played together at break times. When I was old enough I was allowed to go on play dates to her house after school on a Friday. By the time I was 9 my Mom let me go on sleepovers to her house. That’s where the trouble started. She made me participate in things that made me feel so uncomfortable ...