Feel Good #2-Tea

It is common knowledge that if you have been dumped, lost your job, are facing a huge decision, or your precious pet Scruffy has passed away; a cup of tea is the answer to all of life’s hardships. I grew up in a family that believed this wholeheartedly.

We were lucky enough to enjoy family holidays three times a year in our house down on Durban’s south coast. My grandparents would often come to stay. When they did us kids would try to avoid any adults at 8:00am, 1:00pm, 4:00pm and 7:00pm as we would certainly be asked to make yet another tray of tea. It was the worst possible job. No matter what you had been doing, you were forced to stop and make a full tray of tea. Not just a mug of tea; teapots, teacups, sugar bowls and milk jugs had to be included (WITH a doily, purely for the purpose of decoration).  At 30 degrees Celsius it would be too hot for such a beverage, but this would not deter these die hard tea drinkers.

This is now a custom that has passed down through the generations. My husband knows that if he has to wake me up early, he only needs to present me with a cup of tea to coax me out of bed. I find nothing better than a nice cup of tea after dinner. This love of tea is something I definitely inherited from my mom and granny.

On the day my beloved gran passed away, the entire family met at my grandparent’s house. It was a time we all needed to be together. We spent the whole day there, talking about my gran, grieving our loss and laughing at all the fun memories of her; and I can’t tell you how many trays of tea were made that day. She would have loved it!

Starter for Ten by David Nicholls

This is the story of Brian Jackson. He is about to start university and has the naïve idea that he can be a totally different person. With dreams of intellectual debates, poetry readings and drinking “fine vintage port out of tiny glasses while listening to Miles Davis,” Brian leaves behind his childhood friends, Spencer and Tone and sets off for his new university experience.

On his first night he meets Alice Harbinson who is, of course, out of his league; and falls totally in love. To impress her Brian joins a quiz team; which he only gets onto because one of the other contestants falls ill.

Of course things don’t go according to plan; which leads to totally embarrassing and cringe worthy scenarios; and I would actually have to put the book down for a moment to recover, all the while relating to the angst Brian is feeling (that, I’m sure, we have all experienced by simply being a teenager ). This book is laugh out loud hilarious! Brian constantly puts his foot in it and gets himself into social situations that feel like you are watching a car crash about to happen.

It is a totally enjoyable book and I will definitely be reading more from David Nicholls.

London's burning

As the dust settles from the riots, a country is left in shock, disgust and anger.

When I first heard news reporting on the riots in London, I kept asking my husband why they were rioting. He didn’t know, and as I continued watching the BBC news report, I realized that no one was sure why these riots were breaking out and spreading. This is what makes these actions even more detestable. One rioter being interviewed said it was against the police, yet none of these atrocities have been aimed at the police. The people who have suffered are the normal working class citizens who have worked hard for what they have. One newspaper article told of a man whose off license shop was looted and burnt to the ground. He now only had 25p to his name and a family to support. It is no surprise that the people of England are enraged by these selfish, greedy, repulsive yobs.

On Monday night, my husband and I walked home together from Clapham Junction station and evidently just missed the riots that took place there; devastating the streets we know so well. The next morning I had to walk the 45min journey to the station as no busses were on route to go there. There was an eerie, empty feeling in Clapham as onlookers gaped at the wreckage of the high street. 

Clapham high street

 

The party shop that burnt down, which ironically donated some of it's profit to help the less fortunate

The question that I want to ask is where are the parents in all this? How can they let their kids go around with no regard or respect for others. How has a generation emerged that has no discipline and again has no respect for authority? We live in a place where teachers and parents have no power or authority over these kids for fear of the law coming down on them. How did things get so screwed up?

I believe that respect is first learnt at home. It seems that these kids are learning quite the opposite. I don’t believe it’s the circumstances that they are in, or the fact that they are brought up on council estates (which have emerged as reasons for these horrid events). There are many young kids out there not taking place in these riots, or similar criminal behavior, who are from the same backgrounds. I do believe that a country whose churches are mostly empty has resulted in a society where money and material possessions have become their gods.

The one good thing that has come from this is the sense of a nation pulling together. My husband went down to help clean up the streets of Clapham the next morning. Hundreds of people had turned up to help. There was a beautiful spirit of community as shops brought food and drink out to the volunteers. We only hope now that the government will recognize these real problems with the youth of this country and things will start to change.

SA trip part 3 ~ The End

My dear brother, yet again, had to deal with our mom and me fretting about getting me to the airport on time. We had first decided that he would try leaving work early and then fetching our other brother, mom and I and then trying to get back to the airport. We of course wanted to all be together when we said our goodbyes. After about 10 phone calls back and forth, we decided that logistically it just wouldn’t work. My mom and I said our goodbyes after she dropped me at my brothers’ office; and we set off to the airport and the extremely early hour of 15:30 for my 20:00 flight. Have I mentioned that my dear brother is a very patient man? We soon discovered that there isn’t that much to do at the airport after you’ve eaten something. After an hour wondering around, I sent the poor man home and went through the security check. After all, it was now about 6pm and I only had an hour to get through before I could board the plane. Or so I thought. At 8pm exactly we were finally allowed to board the plane. But instead of getting straight on board, we had to get on a little transfer bus to take us to the plane. After 2 min of driving the bus stopped but didn’t open. Traffic jam on the tarmac! I held on nervously to my boarding pass for fear of losing it. I kept checking my seat number over and over again. ‘Seat 4 OH. Seat 4 OH’ I thought this was a weird seat number but figured that, since this was a different plane they just numbered them differently. We sat in the little bus for about half an hour before we started moving again.  After a brief 5 meter drive, the bus stopped again and the doors opened. It would have been quicker had we all just walked to the plane. Yet when standing in the queue to board I wished we could get back on the bus; it was a freezing cold winter’s night and I only had a very thin jersey keeping me warm. It was a very long 15 minutes of dancing around in one spot to keep warm. Finally on the plane I walked down the aisle trying to find seat 4 OH. When I got to seat 58 A I admitted defeat and asked an air hostess to help me locate my seat.

“Ah,” she said. “That’s seat 40 H, right in the front.” I sheepishly turned around and had to push against the stream of people going in the right direction; irritating many a passenger along my way. (Not my finest moment, but a very good reason why I shouldn’t be made to do things on my own.)

I’m happy to say that all my on flight entertainment was working! I didn’t sleep a wink on the plane but made up for it when I got home and collapsed on my bed. One of the best sleeps I’ve ever had.

SA Trip PART 2

When I arrived in Joburg, it didn’t feel like I had left. I don’t know what I was expecting it to feel like, but when I saw my brother at the airport it felt like I had seen him just last week. It felt lovely to hug him again and I was so excited to see him. But there was no time to stand around hugging; we needed to get to the church and still needed to battle through Friday morning Joburg traffic.

I wished I could know the feeling of stepping out the plane from first or even business class; having freshened up after sleeping in a supine position. Instead I felt like I had to be unfolded from the ridiculous position I had assumed in order to fit on the impossibly small economy class seats just to get some sleep.

I needed to freshen up before the funeral and unpacked my suitcase on the back seat of my brothers car as he drove like a demon passed cars and trucks on the highway. I had to do my make up from the back while glancing in the rearview mirror and wasn’t completely certain that I wouldn’t emerge at the other end looking like a women of the evening. I’m happy to report that we made it half an hour before the funeral started. Thanks to my brothers brilliant driving I must add……

The funeral was a beautiful goodbye to my grandfather with all his family and dearest friends; but the best moment was when I saw my mom. It was awesome to hug her again! I had a fabulous 5 days in South Africa where the winter days were warmer than London (are we surprised?).

Here are some pics of my S.A trip and the absolute fun I had.

Me and my best friend

My Boys!

My mommy and me

My other best friend and her beautiful boy!

S.A. trip Part 1

When my brother called to say he would buy me a ticket back home, it was 10 am on Wednesday morning. I was on my way to work and we decided to buy the ticket for Thursday evening. The funeral was on Friday morning at 10:30am and I would be landing at 8:30am. We would be cutting it fine but my brother assured me he would get us there on time. The women in his life, i.e. my mother and I, doubted him. As women we felt obliged to worriedly consider the worse case scenarios.

It must be known that this would be my very first solo flight. I have an irrational fear of airports.  They seem huge and complicated; a place that I could easily get lost in, miss my flight and if I ever did find my way, I would be refused entry into the country. If this trip had been planned months in advance I would have been a nervous wreck. It was a blessing that it was so last minute as I didn’t have time to consider the worst case scenarios; I just simply had to go.

 It turns out that I was slightly justified to have worried. When we flew to London back in October, I booked my ticket under my married name and produced my marriage certificate when showing my passport which was in my maiden name. There were no problems. But this time, flying a different airline, this was a problem. They would not check me onto the flight. The only thing I could do was to buy another ticket. It was at this point that I began to cry. I was already emotional about my granddad, nervous flying on my own and apprehensive about making it to the funeral on time. Now we had to buy another ticket. I felt like saying “See! I told you so. Airports are evil!” As there was no other option, we purchased another ticket. They reassured us we would be refunded, but would have to pay £25 admin fee. I doubt whatever admin was done was really worth the £25.

The check in lady, after seeing my tears I assume, offered to find me a better seat on the plane as I was sitting in the middle of the middle aisle. After going through security and the passport control, I arrived at the gate just as they were boarding the plane. I was asked to take a seat as they were still trying to get me a better seat. I waited half an hour before they conceded that all the seats were taken and I had to settle for the seat I was given. My seat, 58E was in the centre of a school trip, which was made up of a group of 16 year old boys. The up side was that I had someone to help me put my case in the overhead compartment. That and the fact that if I had wanted to, I could have farted away to my hearts content and no one would have noticed as there was farting going on all around me. An unpleasant smell would soon be accompanied by “Ah! Dude! No!” and then raucous laughter.

What I had been looking forward to on the flight were the 11 hours worth of movies I was going to watch. However the four screens in my row didn’t seem to be working. I waved my hand to get the attention of the air hostess. I could see her looking at me but she didn’t move. I gave her the benefit of the doubt and waved my arm more frantically in the air. Again she didn’t respond; yet I knew she was looking directly at me. I was about to be outraged when I realised that she was actually waiting to start the safety demonstration. Instead I sank down as low as possible in my chair, hopefully unnoticed by any judgemental 16 year olds present.

Regardless of no in flight entertainment the entire journey, it wasn’t an entirely bad trip. The food was tasty, the service was good; and I took a sleeping tablet accompanied by a glass of red wine and passed out for the duration of the flight…..

In loving memory of my grandfather

Moving to a different country is wonderfully exciting, but when a crisis hits a family, the distance between countries becomes painfully apparent. About two weeks ago my cousin, who also lives here in London, sent me a message asking if I had spoken to my mother. I knew immediately that something was wrong. I phoned my mom straight away. She told me everything was ok, but my grandfather had had a heart attack. He was in the hospital; stable but still critical. I felt helpless not being able to be there to see him; and also helpless that I couldn’t be there for my mom. Moving away from my family unit was a difficult decision to make. It is one of the biggest reasons most people move back home. We kept in contact with Skype and numerous messages, but I have never felt further away from home than in these last two weeks.

When my granddad passed away he was surrounded by his five children and his grandchildren. Fred Greeff was a beautiful man who loved his “Spouse”, my grandmother Yvonne Greeff, more than anything in the whole world. They made me believe in Soul Mates. They had a gorgeous marriage, were still loving and considerate and I never heard a nasty word spoken between them; and they still held hands right up until the day my gran passed away in 2006.

My granddad was a man of incredible character and love. He was a REAL gentleman. I never saw him lose his temper. He was always so grateful for everything in his life and could often be heard saying that, “This was the BEST dinner/ concert/ picnic/ etc,” that he had ever had.  He was an example to all his children and grandchildren of how to live by faith and love our Lord. He has left a legacy behind of a family that loves each other and will always be there for each other. My grandparents’ marriage will always be an inspiration to me personally, and although we will always miss him; it is reassuring to know that he is now at peace and full of joy for all eternity with my gran and our Lord.

We weren’t planning on going to the funeral because of finances. I was going to be the only grandchild absent from the funeral. I wrote a goodbye letter to my grandfather to be read out during the service. I sent it to my brother for a proof reading. He phoned back and offered to buy me a plane ticket instead. My family is awesome! Because of my brothers generous heart I got to say goodbye to my granddad, and all of his 5 children and 14 grandchildren were there. Every one of us had a part in the funeral; it was wonderful to see my granddads legacy.

Thank you Grandpa for the beautiful memories. Thank you for all the laughter, the family holidays and for always being there for us. Thank you for the example you have set for me. I am grateful that I was witness to such a beautiful marriage and that I knew such an incredible man. I will miss you always.

Goodbye.