Life with Suzie – You can’t stop love

While I was working on our family tree recently the poignant love story of Lady Catherine Grey captured my imagination. She is one of Suzie’s ancestors in the line from Henry VII King of England. What struck me about Catherine Grey was that she must have been a strong character with an indomitable spirit and a mind of her own, but because of her family position and the politics of the time she was subjected to a life of tragedy, isolation and sadness - all because of a choice she made in love.

Catherine was born on 25 August 1540. She was the daughter of Henry Grey, 1st Duke of Suffolk, the younger sister of Lady Jane Grey and a cousin of Queen Elizabeth I of England. Her grandmother was Mary Tudor and her great grandfather was Henry VII, King of England.

To understand what she was faced with, one needs to understand the politics and intrigues of the 1500’s. It was a time when monarchs had absolute power and would do whatever it took, to hang onto it. It was also an era when marriages were arranged to forge allegiances and when women had little or no rights.

During her early years Henry VIII was King of England and what is most remembered about him was that he had gone through six wives, in his obsession to produce a suitable heir. In his will he left the succession of the throne to three of his children, Edward VI, Mary and Elizabeth. In the event that none of his three children left heirs, he provided for the throne to pass on to heirs of his younger sister, Mary Tudor.
This meant that Catherine and her sister Jane and their heirs would be in the line of ascendency to the English throne. It sounds good, but it carried a price.

After his death in 1547, Henry VIII’s son Edward VI inherited the crown. He was 9 years of age, but because he was too young to exercise power, a council of regency was appointed to rule until he reached 18 years of age. Sadly, Edward contracted tuberculosis and before he died at the age of 15, he named Lady Jane Grey as his successor, because he did not want his catholic sister Mary to assume the throne. This decision was questionable, because he was not in a position to legally exclude his two sisters from succession.

Four days after King Edward’s death on 6 July 1553, Lady Jane Grey was proclaimed Queen of England and moved into the Tower of London. There was a lot of jockeying for position at the time and Mary was not going to bow out, without a fight and the Privy Council decided to switch their allegiance from Jane to Mary, and proclaimed her queen on 19 July 1553. Jane then became a prisoner in the Tower of London.
At the time this precipitated a protestant rebellion in England, in which Henry Grey, the Duke of Suffolk (Catherine’s father) participated. The rebellion did not succeed and as a result Lady Jane Grey was executed on 12 February 1554 for treason. Her father was executed 7 days later.

It seems inconceivable now, as she was only twelve years old at the time, but Catherine Grey had been married off to Henry Herbert on 21 May 1553. However, after the failed attempt to put Jane Grey on the throne, Henry Herbert decided to distance himself from the Grey family and cast out Catherine from his home and had their marriage annulled.

After her sister’s death Catherine Grey became a serious contender for the succession. Queen Mary was still unmarried and Princess Elizabeth was regarded as illegitimate and a heretic by the Catholic powers. Also as a granddaughter of Mary Tudor and great-granddaughter of Henry VII, Catherine had a better claim to the throne of England than Mary, Queen of Scots, since Henry VIII's will had expressly excluded the Scottish line from succession.

When Elizabeth I came to the throne in November 1558, Catherine Grey's availability as a possible heir came to the fore again. It seemed that the Queen was warming to her as a potential Protestant heir, and it was rumoured that she was considering adopting her.

But this is where Catherine’s indomitable spirit came to the fore and she was to make a decision that was to change her life and the path she walked forever. She had met and fallen in love with Edward Seymour, 1st Earl of Hertford, and in December 1560 they were secretly married.

Catherine did not have the Queen's official permission to marry and as it turned out Queen Elizabeth did not take kindly to this decision. She did not think Edward was a suitable partner and it had been intended that Catherine marry a Scottish nobleman, who had a claim to the Scottish throne, so as to strengthen relations between the two nations. Catherine’s marriage effectively scuppered those plans.

When Queen Elizabeth found out about the marriage she promptly imprisoned Catherine, who was pregnant at the time, in the Tower of London. She then sent Edward Seymour to Europe to improve his education. If Queen Elizabeth thought this would keep them apart, she was mistaken, because she obviously did not understand the power of love. When Edward returned to England, the couple were reunited, as the Lieutenant of the Tower allowed secret visits between them.

Blinded by the intrigues of the time, or maybe it was just old fashioned paranoia, Queen Elizabeth became convinced that the marriage was part of a wider conspiracy against her.

In 1562, the marriage was annulled and the Seymour’s were censured as fornicators for their "carnal copulation" by the Archbishop of Canterbury's commission. The effect of this action was to make her children illegitimate and thus ineligible to succeed to the throne.

This did not stop Catherine and Edward from seeing each other and after the birth of her second son in 1563, the enraged Queen ordered her permanent separation from her husband and younger son. Catherine was moved from the Tower and placed in the care of an uncle and spent the next five years under what can only be termed house arrest at various estates, until her death on 26 January 1568, at the age of 27.

Maybe it is because I live in a different time with different values that I cannot come to terms with that level of subjugation and the way Catherine was isolated from the people she loved.

So what has this got to do with Suzie? Two things really.

Firstly, had Catherine bowed to the dictates of the time and not chosen to follow her heart, there would be no life with Suzie. My life would have taken a different turn but instead I have a very special person in my life.

Secondly, I think Suzie has inherited something of the spirit of Catherine Grey. She is strong, feisty and has a mind of her own. Shortly after we had met it was suggested to her that maybe she should rather find someone from a similar social standing. We came from very different backgrounds. I was the typical country boy with no social graces and came from a family who measured the worth of people by their character, rather than position and title.

Like Catherine, Suzie followed her heart and chose love and I found a soul mate, who has been the love of my life for close on thirty five years.

The moral of the story is that you can’t stop love.

Mime artist supremo

You have to keep a wary eye on this fellow.........................

..................otherwise he suddenly changes his pose and this can be quite scary.

Happiness is a family reunion...............

This has been the most amazing and joyous week I have had in a long time.

My older sister and I were reunited with our youngest sister, Carla, who I last saw over 40 years ago. I am still totally bowled over and cannot quite believe this has happened.

It seems inconceivable that we were separated for so long, but unfortunately we were.

How does something like this arise? I will give the expurgated and abridged version, because these situations don't just happen, they are the result of many choices, events and circumstances. This one had its origins in my parents broken marriage and the different paths their lives and mine took, over the years that followed.

There is a 14 year age gap between me and Carla. I first met her when she was three years old in 1969 and we hit it off quite well. Events overtook us shortly after that meeting, as I moved to another country and to another life, with my mother and step father. When I returned to South Africa in 1977, I  made contact with my father, and up until he died in 1989 we kept contact, through correspondence and telephone calls, but we never saw each other again.

In all those years I never spoke to Carla, but dad told me what was happening in her life and about her marriage. It seemed to me that our lives had really gone their separate ways, especially after dad died in 1989.  I often wondered about Carla and how I could contact her. I also wondered what her reaction to me would be if I ever found her. Would she even want to know me?

When the internet came into its own, I did some searches for her over the years, using Google and various other sites but they were all in vain.

Then in October last year I received a whole lot of digital family photos, which included one of a little girl I recognised as my long lost sister. It was a quite a wrench and it got me wondering about my her and the fact that I had not been a part of her life. It also renewed my desire to find her and it prompted a few more internet searches for her, but again without success. The last one I did was on 10 July 2010.

Unbeknown to me, Carla was also on a quest to find her long lost brother and sister and she was succesful through Facebook.

Imagine my surprise when, on 17 August 2010, I received a Facebook friend request, from the very person I was trying to find. I was totally blown away. I accepted the request and promptly went to her Facebook page, where I looked at her collection of family photos. I then sent her an email to which she responded and soon thereafter we had our first telephone chat.

Carla did confess that she was also afraid about how her two siblings would react to her request and was delighted that we both responded positively. She had the same concerns about rejection that had crossed my mind so many times in the past. She has also spent her whole life wanting to know her older brother and sister. That just breaks my heart.

To all intents and purposes we are strangers. We have had different upbringings and lead different lives, but the one thing we have in common is that we are family and that can never be taken away. I now fully understand what is meant by that old adage, "blood is thicker than water."

We have been reunited as brother and sister and though we can never get back the lost years, we can and will certainly make the most of the years ahead.

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?

A time of sadness and a time of joy

I have not been able to bring myself to blog for just over a month, which has been filled with mixed emotions.

While we were on holiday we received a call to say that my younger sister had suffered a massive brain haemorrhage and was in a coma. She passed away that evening. I never expected my "baby sister" to die before me, so her passing came as a tremendous shock. I am still trying to come to terms with her not being with us, and I still hope that it is just a bad dream.

Whenever I think of Joyce, I think of her as my little sister, because that is how I referred to her when I was a kid. From an early age she was a person with a strong character. She knew what she wanted, she was not influenced by popular opinion, she could assert herself and was not afraid to hold back, she also had a sharp wit and a good brain.


My sisters and I had a tradition of having our photos taken together, which started when we were still small. As kids mother would periodically decide it was time for our photos to be taken. Spontaneous or candid shots were not done. All the shots had to be carefully posed, but first of all we would be bathed and scrubbed and put into our best clothes and go through an afternoon of what could best be described as "kiddies hell." We would have preferred to be playing, but looking back now I realise our mother left us with a legacy of treasured photos that bring back many memories.

We had a great childhood. We played and laughed and argued and fought like any other siblings and always stood up for one another, because we were family. Joyce, Charlette and I had a very close relationship and our times together was always very special. Joyce always retained her no nonsense approach to life and her sharp wit and could always be relied upon to be unconventional. She also always sought the best for her two daughters and her granddaughter.

I am really going to miss my little sister.

Yet in the sadness there was also joy, with the arrival of our third grandchild Jonathan, a delightful little boy, who needless to say is going to be spoilt rotten by me. Just one look at that littlle guy and I was totally besotted.

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 - "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.

K - 30 years old today

Well, it was about the time when one of the university lecturers said, “You have passed”, that it all started
The not-a-mamma, as she was at that stage, said “Yippee I can throw away my pills!” And did.

What happened next is censored.

Then the axe fell, the official University results said I had failed my Shona language exam, but could write a sup. Cold sweat – the possibility of baby on the way and the prospect of another year as a married, impoverished student with a sprog in tow – did not seem the way to go.

Too late to start swallowing pills again.

Not long thereafter a trip to the doctor confirmed that a little miracle had taken place and a little sprog was on its way. In fact it was on the day that cousin Cara was born that your arrival was confirmed.

This was good motivation to learn a language, in a few easy steps, in about 3 weeks.
Rewrote the exam - more sweating as we waited for the results. And then miracle of miracles I passed. I still couldn’t speak Shona, but who cares.

Great joy in the family at the prospect of our very own baby and a new grandchild for all the grandparents and a niece and a cousin.




We ended up living in Mtoko in one of the hottest war zones in the country when you were on your way. The mamma getting bigger and bigger by the day.

Then after many hair raising experiences the time arrived for you to be brought into the world. It had to be an induction as the mamma had Odeama. The induction started at 9:00am and 12 hours later our little girl sprog was born.

You were such a good little baby, never, let’s make that seldom, cried. We could even take you to the movies. And you grew into a very happy and defiant little toddler, who gave your grannies the heebie jeebies when you climbed up and down the stairs in the flat.

As you grew up you brought us much joy. ...... we won't go into all the ups and downs of the next thirty years, but suffice it to say that you have become a very special, caring, talented human being (with a wicked twisted sense of humour thrown in for good measure!) We love you lots and are very proud to be your parents!




We are glad the lecturer gave us the wrong information, because if she hadn’t you would not be you.

No matter how old you get, you will always be our little girl.

Happy Thirtieth Birthday, lots of love from Mom and Dad