HEAD OF MISSIONS AND THE 3 SECOND HAIR CUT.
Head of Missions. Aka Ian Flemming’s James Bond.
M is back! We are all ecstatic, especially Faye. What a reunion, what utter joy to have our Head of Missions back in control. If you feel an outpouring of enthusiasm gushing off this page, it is exactly how I feel when I hug M at the bus station.
M hasn’t had an easy time over these last nine months. His grandmother passed away suddenly. She was the one who grew him up as his own mother passed away when he was young. He never knew his father. His grandmother was the glue that bound and nurtured their small family. I feel wretched for him especially as he bears this great loss so stoically and philosophically. “It is life, mos.”
In no time, M whips Glee into shape. The weeds are cleared, the veg garden is restarted and we have a second garden on the go. Swanky sports a coat of primer and a gazillion pesky Black Wattle trees are sent to the Black Wattle cemetery….with a hand saw!
My squiggles and diagrams and lists are back in full view. We are ticking things off at the rate of knots and as the minimal buckaroonees and the scant tools I have in my toolbox allow. It is still very satisfying.
M also unwittingly adds ‘hairdresser’ to his long list of accomplishments. Poor M. Little did he know that the title, ‘Head of Missions’ would be so vast, varied or literal.
This morning…. I am up at 5 feeding horses and chickens with a bee in my bonnet. I am so sick of my hair which has grown so long. I look like a drippy two-tone chocolate! By the time M shows for work, I am ready. Hair is brushed and tied into a low ponytail. I push the scissors into his hands and ask him to cut off the ponytail. Truly, a 3 second haircut! And it is perfect: a short, slightly lopsided bob. Now that M is back, I can go and visit my family and my sister asks if she can make an appointment with her hairdresser to clean my hair up. I tell her, “Take a look at me first and then you can tell me what you think.” I am still walking around proudly with my 3 second haircut!
While M is working hard, actually achieving something, I am easily side-tracked. I console myself that as I have been a voice over artist for so long, thirty seconds is a perfectly reasonable period of concentration. I even get side-tracked shaking out my bedding.
Dear bomb proof Mr Finn, I truly believe if a bomb did go off, Finn would say, “huh?” It is hard to believe I will be 50 in a few months.
I am full of ideas. Crazy S, the builder left an old sleeper couch here, so I make M help me lug it halfway up a hill to one of my favourite viewpoints. A friend did point out to me that it would be more comfortable if it had cushions! I promise to lug those up too. Anyone for sundowners?
Whilst on the subject of Crazy S, I must say he was rather inspired when he hung the stable door back to front. I have taken his genius a step further. The top half remains closed, so I get to do pilates walking in and out of the front door. Now the horses can’t come in and with a blanket hanging over the bottom half, neither can the chickens who just love to poop in the house. Luckily, the chickens don’t seem to be able to work the blanket out, but the dogs are smarter and are able to come and go as they please. I am terribly proud of this invention, and do not mind if anyone would like to use my idea for their own ‘creature’ comforts.
When it gets too hot, I sleep on the stoep. I have slept outside on and off for about 12 years, ever since I moved to the country. It’s one of my very best things to do. Not so much one night, when a bird of prey nearly poked my eye out! Luckily, Rosie sounded a warning. I awoke to her bark and the sound of powerful wings banking away. I must have looked like a juicy little morsel with just my head poking out of the duvet. The stoep is the most obvious place for an outside bed, but I am kind of liking the idea of sleeping on the trampoline. See, it has a ready-made mozzi net, I just have to put a mattress inside, cover up the top and voila! A nice springy, summer bed.
I am brimming with bright spark ideas while M gets on with the real stuff.
What M would love most is to learn to drive, so we turn a top field into a car track. I think the real farmers are horrified at all this wrecking of grass, but as the horses are now mostly permanently in the valley, it seems like the logical place for M to start. I am very nervous when I get into the passenger seat, and later M admits he was too. True to his nature, he calmly puts the car into gear, releases the clutch, applies a little petrol and TS Eliot moves off smoothly. It is an outrage! When I learnt to drive a manual, one of my best friends (still today!) took me to a shopping centre parking lot and showed me what to do. I had that little Toyota bucking like a bronco. It was frustrating and mortifying and I shouted at my poor friend, “Get out of the car and leave me to work it out on my own!” What an ungrateful brat. M, on the other hand is a natural and on the second lesson, he even drives the incredibly steep, windy path home. I am secretly gleeful to note he is a little jelly-legged when we come to a stop outside Swanky!
We go through M’s Safeways K53 book and decide to have a competition using one of the tests which the K53 book provides. I have been driving for over thirty years, and M wins outright! In order not to be a sore loser, I tell him, “Well done…. Now give me the book so I can study before our next competition!”
We are all so loopy de loop happy M is back, however there is a challenge I face now he has returned:
Julie, remember to wear pants!
APPRECIATIONS
Luciano, that you are still my friend after being woken up day after day to reverse my car when we lived in Hillbrow is my good fortune! Thank you for your patience with me through the years. You are the dearest of the dear to me. I love you, Luc.
Kenny, Thank You so much for a copy of a much treasured and widely studied brilliant Safeways K53 book.
