Life with Suzie - Shifting a gear

One thing about my Suzie that is very endearing is her sunny disposition and her ability to see the best in everything. She is fun to be with and is always positive............well almost always positive, in most circumstances.

I have recently been noticing though that there are some circumstances that are like the proverbial red rag to a bull. Don't mess with her when she is behind the wheel of her car.

We pulled in at a service station to fill up on a road trip recently and had to queue up for petrol. While she was waiting in the car with Jason and the two grandsons, Karen and I popped into the shop to buy some munchies - and so missed the fun.

When it was her turn to fill up, someone despite being waved off by the petrol attendant, jumped the queue and pulled in before her. If there is one thing that Suzie hates it is injustice. In this case it was the arrogance of driver and I quote, "What makes him think he had the right to push in like that, when everyone else has been waiting their turn."

Shortly afterwards she was directed to another pump and while the car was being filled, she went over to the offender and  told him he was, "an arrogant old man". Well the last word was not exactly "man". Even loosely interpreted. That is because it started with an "A" and ended with an "E". Though he tried to justify his action, he was never going to win that argument and was left thoroughly chastised.

By the time Karen and I got back to the car Jason had returned to to a normal sitting position, after cringing down with embarassment.

I thought it was very funny and that it was an isolated incident. So I am wrong sometimes.

On the way to the Addo Rose and Garden Show today, traffic ground to a halt at Motherwell as a large contingent of cars, in a funeral procession, had to wait to turn right into the cemetary in the face of the oncoming traffic. Undeterred by this, several minibus taxis passed on the shoulder on our left, only to cut  back into the traffic at the front of the queue.

Then some fellow in a white Izusu bakkie (van, ute) decided to emulate the example of the taxi drivers. His first problem was that the  road shoulder narrowed at this point, as it was obstructed by a telephone pole. His second problem was that he tried to cut in front of Suzie, in a very narrow gap. Much to his surprise he was blasted by the rather shrill horn of the Daihatsu Materia, which caused him to slam on his brakes. At this point the traffic stopped again and Suzie leaned across me and gave him the finger.

He wound down his window and what he said was completely lost, because we pulled off as the traffic started to move. Again,  "What makes him think he had the right to push in like that." It was a statement rather than a question.

The fellow then cut in front of the car behind us, but kept a rather large following distance behind us and eventually also turned in at the Addo Rose Show, where his car merged with the many white bakkies in the car park and disappeared.

Suzie does not stay angry for long, it is a quick flash and then it is over.  By now she had forgotten the incident and we enjoyed our visit to the show and had a fun day.

Just in case you get the impression that Suzie is some sort of psycho when she gets behind the wheel, she is not. These were two very, very isolated incidents, which I found amusing. This was probably due to the fact that when we were much younger she would insist on driving in town, when the roads were busy, because I was so impossible and impatient when driving in traffic in those days.

Tales of snow and lions

This week has been marked with high winds, driving rain and snow in the mountains of the Eastern and Western Cape. It has also been very cold and we have heard that we are experiencing the coldest winter in 50 years.

With today being a public holiday the family jumped into the car and set off to see if we could find someof that snow. The first decision was which direction to take. We decided on Grahamstown, because there had been a heavy snowfall there, but of course the likelihood of any snow still being around was very remote. If not, we would still enjoy the drive we reasoned.

On the way granny announced that she would give R5 to the person who sees the snow first. Ethan immediately saw snow, but of course that was an effort to extort R5 from granny.

Grampa immediately raised the odds. "I will give R100 to the first person who sees a panda bear!"

This prompts a family debate about the likelihood of seeing a panda alongside the road, so grampa reluctantly decides to change the odds. "Ok, make that a lion." As an after thought he adds, "Make that a growly lion and not a smiley one."

So, what are the odds of seeing a lion alongside the road to Grahamstown? Not totally impossible, if the cat proof fencing, bounding the many private game parks on the way, is any indication. We have often seen eland, wildebees, zebras, blesbuck and impala in the area. And lions? Never.

As expected the snow had melted long before we arrived in Grahamstown, but we had a good lunch and then drove to a viewpoint outside the city and behold there in the distance was snow. If you look carefully (very carefully) at this photo you will see snow. Those white specs on the mountains in the distance...........you may want to try a magnifying glass.

We decided to go home via Alicedale and had not travelled very far when Jason, my son-in-law, said, "There's a lion!"

"Not possible," I think to myself. The car came to a sudden stop and we all baled out and sure enough, there was a lion.

"It's a smiley lion, not a growly lion," said grampa. 

 "It's a lion," granny replied not agreeing with him, "pay up."

After a brief debate on the nature of the lion, grampa reluctantly brought out his wallet and paid up. There are some arguments he reasoned with himself that cannot be won.

I still think it was a smiley lion. What do you think?

Life with Suzi - Creepy crawlies

Last night Suzi and I were sitting on the sofa when she let out a falsetto shriek and leapt off the couch and made a strategic withdrawal. I did not know what was happening and leapt up as well. She had seen a centipede crawling on my shoulder and it was in the process of climbing onto my face.

When I leapt up the centipede fell down and disappeared. I hunted high and low for it to no avail. I then sprayed liberal amounts of insect killer all around the sofa and the skirting boards. In the meantime Suzi was now sitting on one of the armchairs with her feet up and her skin crawling.

We carried on watching TV (constantly on the lookout for this creepy crawly) and about 15 minutes later I felt as though the skin on the lower left hand side of my back was crawling. I shifted forward, looked down and saw nothing and the sensation was gone. I made myself comfortable again and then saw a rather large centipede moving across my stomach. I quickly flicked it off me and onto the floor and then returned the compliment by walking on it. In the words of Monty Python, "It was no more, it had ceased to be, it had gone to meet its maker...." it was a late centipede.

I was not going to blog about this, but Shabby Girl did say, "I hope you all had a centipedelessly wonderful Monday!" Amazing how we shared similar experiences at about the same time, on opposite sides of the world.

Life with Suzi - Holding Hands

Suzi and I were recently walking hand-in-hand along a narrow passage way to the parking lot at the St Georges Hospital. Coming up from behind us, at a brisk was a young woman, so we stepped aside to let he pass.

"No please carry on," she said remaining where she was. "I am really enjoying this," she continued, "I only wish that when I get to such a good age that my husband still holds my hand."

We smiled at her and continued walking. When we climbed into our car we looked at each other and burst out laughing. We had never thought of ourselves as having reached a "good age".

Soon after we had met Suzi and I were at a party and were standing together holding hands, when a friend came up and told us that when we were married as long as she was we would stop holding hands. When we asked her how long she had been married, she replied, "Six months."

That was just over 33 years ago. I guess some things never change and when we get to an even better age we will still be holding hands.

Life with Suzi - Shopping

I was not able to ascertain whether this sign was put up tongue in cheek, or whether the staff from "Out if the Blue" at St Francis Bay, have had to contend with many grumpy husbands coming into the shop with their wives. It got a smile from me anyway - in fact I ran back to my car to get my camera.

.

.

It made me think of the shopping experiences Suzi-k and I have. Usually we have a lot of fun when we shop together. In fact we can be a very bad influence on one another, especially in book shops.

..

But..........then there are the shops we classify as "boys shops" and "girls shops".

..

Let's see, a decor shop falls into the category of a "girls shop". The conversation usually starts like this. "I just want to pop in here quickly, do you mind?"

..

"No," I lie.

..

I manage to whip around the shop in thirty seconds. I take everything in and foolishly think it is now time to hit the road. Alas, Suzi-k has not made it past the first display, so I do many more circuits.

I don't get grumpy. I may just casually remark that I look a lot quicker than she does and she gets a hunted look on her face.

..

I think she secretly enjoys the "boys shops", but will never admit it. Sometimes has to restrain me - "We do not need any more camping equipment, let's first use the stuff we already have," or "Haven't you got enough knives?" My stock reply is, "A man can never have enough knives."

..

There is one area of shopping where Suzi-k refuses to go with me. That is shoe shopping. Even I have to admit that I am a total pain, because I am so fussy about what goes onto my feet, but at least my shoes are comfortable.

Is it just me?

Today I got my first “mwah” and I hope it is my last, because I will do everything possible to avoid getting another one. If you do not know what a “mwah” is, let me explain. Maybe if I try and explain it I will gain a better understanding for myself.

A “mwah” is a new form of greeting to me. Suzi-k tells it is a cheek to cheek air kiss and is very “in” among the trendy circles. From what I understand it is like “shalaam”. Whether you are coming or going you say, “Shalaam.” Whether you are coming or going you do a “mwah.”

Depending on the circles you move in there are two kinds of “mwah”. The technique is essentially the same for both. There is the single “mwah” and then there is the double barreled “mwah.”

The technique is to go up to the intended “victim”, then with exaggerated haste and a big smile on your face and with flamboyant movements, place a hand on each of their shoulders and bring your head past the side of theirs (it does not matter which side) without touching and let off a loud “mwah” and then retreat. For the double barreled “mwah”, you do it on both sides.

I only got the single malt version today and I think I may have fluffed it and I am not going to go there. I am not too sure about when the double barreled one is used and don’t intend to find out. Personally I prefer the old fashioned handshake.

I am something of an unconventional guy - just a common or garden bush baby who has never followed the dictates of fashion or convention. So when something like this comes my way I want to run. I don’t think I can do a “mwah”.

I also don’t do the kissing thing, unless it is my wife.

Perhaps this goes back to teenage traumas. When I was about 16 years old we went to visit some Afrikaans relatives, some of whom I had not even met and I had my first experience of an Afrikaner custom, which I have never embraced.

It was the first time I had met Klein (small) Gert, my uncle Gert’s eldest son. He was probably ten or twelve years older than me. In my characteristic fashion I politely stretched out my arm to shake his hand and before I realized what was happening, he had pulled me towards him and planted a kiss firmly on my lips. Let’s just say that I recoiled and beat a hasty retreat.

From there on my form of greeting was simple. It was still the handshake, but my arm was as stiff as a ramrod and my legs were as firmly braced as if I were in a tug o’ war, to make sure that no one reeled me in. And I have maintained that record for forty years.

I just need to find a strategy to “mwah” proof myself now.

Is it just me…………………………?

Life with Suzie - Man-speak Part 2

A while ago I wrote about the secret language of men, "man-speak". For the unenlightened it is the ability of a man to hold a conversation with monosyllables, grunts and other non-vebal forms of communication, which most men understand perfectly well, but which inevetably drive a woman mad.

My Suzie is a warm, friendly and gregarious person, who has never been able to grasp the fundamentals of "man-speak".

On our last trip to the Addo Elephant National Park we stayed overnight and rose early to look for the lions. We drove to the place where they were last spotted, but as luck would have it we saw everything but lions.

Then along came a ray of light - a game viewing vehicle. Suzie was quick to flag it down and very cheerfully said, "Good morning, have you by any chance spotted any lions."

The young man looked at her, pushed out his lower lip and then shook his head, once to the right and once to the left and unceremoniously drove off.

"How rude," she said, "I can see why he became a game ranger and chose to work with animals."

I laughed. "Man-speak," I said, "he has just told you that he has not seen any lions, despite having got up early and driven all over the park looking for them. He is also very disappointed that he has let his clients down."

"Yeah, right," she responded.


We carried on and about an hour and a half later, we saw the same vehicle coming towards us. This time the young man gave us a lopsided grin and a half-hearted wave.

Before Suzie could say anything, I said, "There you go, the two of you are now friends."

"How is that possible," she asked.

"He obviously enjoyed his last conversation with you," I said.

Life with Suzie - Addo

We decided to spend the weekend at the Addo Elephant National Park, but today's post is not about elephants, but more about taking risks.

We had just travelled from the Main Camp past Carol's Rest, on a quest for lions, when we came across the sign that said that the road was only suitable for vehicles with a high ground clearance. Suzie's Daihatsu Materia does not have a high ground clearance. Suzie on the other hand has a sense of adventure and does not mind the fact that he car does not have a high ground clearance.

"The road looks like it has just been graded," she said, "let's try it." I reminded her of her reluctance to drive on bad roads with her new car, but undeterred she drove past the warning sign and down the road.

The road had not been graded. "Oh well," I consoled myself, "someone with a 4x4 is bound to come down here at some stage today and if we ask them nicely, I'm sure they will tow us out."

As it turned out the road was not bad at all. a few rough spots here and there but nothing the valiant little car could not handle.

And then as we came down a hill we came across this Caracal lying at the side of the road, totally undeterred by our arrival. It was quite contented to pose for us.


You don't see these cats about every day. Caracals are nocturnal, secretive, solitary, and aggressive animals. Due to being hunted as a problem animal by farmers, the Caracal has become even more elusive and thus getting to see one is very difficult. This was a rare sighting for us and was truly the highlight of the the trip.

The moral of the story, take a risk you may be pleasantly surprised.

As you can see this little bus is not a 4x4.

Life with Suzie - "anger management"

One little rule that Suzie and I decided on right at the beginning of our marriage, was never to go to sleep angry with one another. This has been a good practice as it has forced us to deal with our disagreements, even if it meant talking into the early hours of the morning. This is also an added incentive to sort out the problems quickly, especially if you need your beauty sleep.

The times we have broken the rule could probably be counted on one hand, which is not a bad record for 32 years. The only problem on those occassions is that the night got very uncomfortable, as we each clung to our side of the bed trying not to touch each other.

On the plus side we have a great marriage and very seldom have disagreements.

One memorable disagreement in the early years of our marriage, was when Suzie was a potter. We had been invited out to dinner with a group of friends and were running late. Suzie believed in being fashionably late and I believed in Teutonic punctuality (must be my German ancestry). I was champing at the bit and being a total grot.

To make matters worse, from my perspective, she very cheerfully loaded a pottery order into the car, which she said we could deliver on the way.

By now I was being totally unreasonable and said it would make us even more late - even if it was on the way.

Let me just say that there was an exchange of words between us and when we got to the street where the delivery was to be made, Suzie was equally anry, with probably a lot more justification than me. Her stubborn streak kicked in and she refused to give me the street number, saying that she would do the delivery on Monday.

My conscience was now beginning to get the better of me, not that I would admit it. So instead of saying I was sorry and that it was really no problem and I was being totally unreasonable, I parked the car in the middle of the road and said we could stay there until she gave me the street number.............

...............Suzie weakened first and we made the delivery and even though we were late, we were the first to arrive at our friends place. Some people take being fashionably late to even greater heights.

That night we behaved totally out of character, sitting on opposite sides of the room and not saying a word to each other. It must have been very obvious to our friends. Afterwards we drove home in stoney silence and put the kids to bed without saying a word. We were both still in sulk mode.

Rules being rules, neither of us went to the bedroom. We somehow gravitated to the kitchen, where we stood staring at each other, still in stoney silence and then simultaneously burst out laughing. I don't know what brought it on, but we kissed and made up. So often the causes of a disagreement are so silly you can only laugh at them.

Suzie still likes being fashionably late, but there are times when she is a stickler for punctuality. And me - well if you can't beat em, join em - life's too short to get hung up on the little things.

The rule is still there, but I can't remember the last time we needed to use it.

Life with Suzie – Man-speak

I have coined a phrase “man-speak” in our family. It is the ability of a man to communicate in monosyllables, grunts and other non-verbal forms of communication like gestures, a nod of the head or a raised eyebrow. I suppose you could also call it the secret language of men.

Two men, who have just met, can sit in what may seem like silence, watching a ball game on TV and at the end of it, are the best of buddies. The fact that they seemed to say nothing to one another is immaterial. They were communicating the whole time with man-speak

There is just one problem with man-speak, women don’t understand it.

Let me illustrate it with a real life example. Sometime last year Suzie asked me to unlock the front door for our domestic worker. I responded in man speak – which may have been a nod of the head or a grunt – I can’t remember.

“Did you hear what I just asked?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Well you didn’t answer me”, was the response.

“Oh, but I did,” I assured her, “it was in man-speak.”

That evening I resumed the discussion on man-speak, with Suzie and daughter-in-law. For some strange reason they did not understand the principles.

“It is simple,” I said, “a man can say a lot with a simple non-verbal gesture, like inclining their head.”

“Well so can a woman,” came back the retort, as Suzie gave me her best rendition of a withering look.

I was not slow in responding. “The difference is that with a man the gesture is not followed by a barrage of words.” I just knew that I pushed the right button, as I saw Suzie lining up with a retort.

Daughter-in-law got in first. “Don’t fall for it Sue,” she said.

Suzie’s jaw clamped shut and I was subjected to another look.

The moral of the story is two fold. A man generally does not win an argument with a woman – when there are two he is lost. And then don’t use man-speak on women, because it will get you nowhere.

Life with Suzie – Lead foot

Suzie loves driving and especially loves fast cars; well if they are not fast she will make them fast. I have for many years called her lead foot.

For some “perverse” reason I usually let her drive. One day she very magnanimously asked if I would like to drive her car - a 2 litre Opel Kadett IS (Aka "Bloublitz" - "Blue Lightning") - complete with a high performance chip.


“No”, I replied, “I have not yet had my adrenalin rush for the day”. That was definitely a challenge.

The kids used to take a great delight in telling me, “Mom says, you are not cutting it fine until you see the whites of their eyes”.

Admittedly she generally sticks to the speed limit and is a safe driver, but likes a quick get away.

Life with Suzie – the bends

My daughter had only just recently received her drivers licence and we were travelling home from work one evening.

She was driving, very sedately up Circular drive. Everything was going well as we turned right into Bordeaux Avenue. Then as we approached S-bend she accelerated, swung the steering wheel into the right turn, a quick left and then she accelerated out of the bend.

I was plastered back in my seat, by now in a cold sweat and thankful I was still alive.

Before I could say a thing she looked at me with a big grin and a gleam in her eyes and said, “Mom says you should never waste a good corner”.

Mmmmmmmm….what could I say.

Life with Suzie – Made to measure

I was preparing my breakfast in the kitchen the other morning and looked up to see Suzie walking through to her studio very purposefully, with a black bra held out in front of her. The strap held firmly between thumb and forefinger of her left hand and the edge of one of the cups held in the same way, in her right hand.

I looked up quizzically.

“Don’t say a thing”, she said.

I didn’t. In fact I knew I did not have to. After thirty two years of marriage I knew I would be getting my answer, before she’d crossed the kitchen.

“I am using it as a tape measure”, she laughed.

That’s my Suzie. She wanted to replace a side table in the living room, with one in the studio and needed to know it would fit. There was no tape measure readily available – the next best thing at hand was her bra.

Life with Suzie – the beginning

Suzie and I have been married for just over thirty two years. She is still the love of my life and the person I most enjoy being with. Life with her is fun and spontaneous and things just seem to happen.
Suzie is always cheerful. She has the ability to light up the room when she walks in, with her sense of fun and laughter – a friend of ours named her Sunshine Suzie, because of her cheerful disposition. I guess that was one of the first things that attracted me to her.

When we met, we clicked instantly and within 10 weeks of meeting we were married. At the time she was working in a laboratory, at the brewery in Harare and I was a student. One of her perks was two free crates of beer a month. My friends maintained that she could not possibly have married me for my money, so I obviously married her for her beer.

We have always had a happy home and our life together, is filled with many anecdotes, which I intend sharing with her blessing of course (except those I have been forbidden to share).

A load of bull and and a load of innocence

Back in the days when it was not done to talk about “the birds and the bees’, in polite company or heaven forbid tell you children about these deep dark secrets, grandpa and uncle Stanley strolled down to the cattle kraal (pen, corral). They were accompanied by Aunt Molly, who at that time was a naïve teenager.

It was dip day. Once a month all the cattle were rounded up and brought in to be dipped and examined for injuries or diseases.

Dip day was always one of the highlights on the farm, with all the hustle, bustle and activity. There is always a lot of dust and noise from the cattle milling about and bellowing. The herdsmen add to the general cacophony with their whistling and shouting and cracking of whips. Then there is the smell of fresh cow dung, mingled with the smell of the dip and the hordes of flies that feel obliged to grace you with their company.

You have to be a farmer to enjoy this. Grandpa generally carried his fly whisk. It was the end of a cows tail attached to a handle – gross but effective – which he used to fend off the flies, as they buzzed around his head.

The two gentlemen (actually they were rough, tough farmers born in the 19th century) and the young lady stood silently at the fence watching the activities. They were not the type of men to waste breath on unnecessary conversation.

After a while Uncle Stanley turned to his brother and said, “Nice bull Harry”.

Grandpa nodded and grunted his acknowledgement.

“How can you tell it is a bull?” asked Aunt Molly, sweetly.

“By the horns my dear, by the horns”, Uncle Stanley responded without hesitation.

“Oh”, said Aunt Molly, now none the wiser, “I never knew that”.

Some of grandpa's cattle in the bush. They eventaully became so wild and unruly that he stopped dipping them.
After many complaints from the authorities he invited the Animal Health Inspector to come and dip them one day. He took up the challenge, but his efforts were less than succesful and after nearly being gored to death, he stopped visiting grandpa's farm.
Grandpa's cattle were treated as game thereafter.