One of the most fascinating things I find about Grahamstown is how much of "social hot spot" our local grocery store is. There is not a huge amount of choice in terms of where one can shop, but there is a firm favourite in town, which at times is SO busy, you would swear you were in the central shopping district of downtown Chicago.
When I first arrived here, I once (and only once) made the fatal error of thinking that I would shoot into town, whip into the store, scoop up some groceries and nip home, without a stitch of make up on, and my hair looking rather dishevelled. I think it was the largest mistake I have made in my 39 years of existence. As Murphy and his luck would have it, I bumped into every living being I had ever met here, who ALL gave me an "oh dear she has gone to seed already" look, before moving swiftly on to the next aisle, or wherever it was that I was not.
Since then, I have accepted that this retailer is the place to see and be seen; a most definite area of social networking, and, that there are more dinner arrangements made in the cheese aisle than there are via telephone, e-mail, Facebook or Twitter.
With this in mind, having to drop in for groceries yesterday before collecting my daughter from ballet, I made sure my hair was done, my make-up pristine, and that my "hold it all in" pantihose were firmly where I needed them to be.
I was all dressed up and pushing my trolley around with the perfect poise - chin up, shoulders back, my sunglasses on my head, Jackie Kennedy style. However, I bumped into no-one I knew. I was, quite literally, devastated. All dressed up nowhere to go.
Feeling rather deflated, I drove back to the farm with my six year old ballerina, and started trundling my plastic packets laden with groceries into our kitchen. Luckily for me, my daughter was outside feeding the little chicks, with my fiancee keeping an eye on her to ensure that the chicks were not force-fed their crushed oats. Our cook was kindly helping me with the carting process, and had left her washing up to go out to my car. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. I stopped and looked, and lo and behold, a long brown snake was heading along the floor towards me. In quite the most unladylike fashion, I dropped my groceries and screamed at the top of my voice "SNAKE, SNAKE". My daughter screamed for our cook, who climbed into my car, taking cover. I kept thinking about the only bit of advice I have ever really been given about this type of a situation "never leave a snake" - one should ALWAYS stay to watch it and see where it goes. I am afraid, I couldn't. My heart was rummaging around in my throat, the snake was approaching me, the beautiful "Pink Lady apples" were lying smashed and bruised on the floor, and my prescence in the kitchen was history.
My fiancee decided to take matters into his own hands and ran inside with his father's old walking stick; he bellowed to me to come and help him and show him the snake, so I knew I had no choice, I had to face this fear. I ran in after him and... NO SNAKE. The damn thing was gone. After a suitable dressing down about never leaving a snake (blah blah), we knew for certain that 1) the snake was somewhere in our kitchen and 2) we had to find it.
After a lot of convincing me to stay, we decided to take a chance and SLOWLY move the tumble dryer away from the wall... and there it was - angry and clearly not in a good mood - the brown, long reptile. It reared it's head at which point I thought that life as I knew it was not worth living. After somewhat of a fight, the dreaded snake (a Cobra), met with a quick ending. In the classics, this would be called "death by walking stick".
The moral of the story here - clearly my lesson is that instead of thinking I am Eve, happily living in the Garden of Eden with my Adam, I need to remember there are apples (no longer good enough for consumption) and there are snakes, and somehow, down here, they all seem to collide at once.
Tuesday 15 May 2012
Tuesday 8 May 2012
I have always loved the season that is Autumn - we are out of that unbearable, sweltering heat which leaves me puffed up, red faced and unable to conceal my sumo wrestling sized upper arms. I love the cooler, more temperate days, the slightly chilly nights, and I don't even mind the odd bit of frost that is around at the moment. I love the changing colours of the leaves on the trees, and the creeping ivy that changes from mamba green to crisp, blood red.
Speaking of mambas...I also love that our snake population has decided to move off and stop seriously affecting my "chi" on a daily basis.
I was told before I moved here that in terms of snakes "about one a year" would be found in the garden. WRONG! So far, we seem to have averaged one every eleven days, and I am starting to realise that "one a year" was a bit of a marketing trick, especially knowing how much I fear and dread all things reptile.
My first experience with a Table Farm snake came in the form of a huge cobra which was found slothing around in the sheep shearing shed. They apparently have a "mate" at most times of their lives, which means that it's little friend is still wondering around here somewhere.
I thought I had got my head around the fact that I did not see the snake and had not seen its friend, so I decided I needed to be brave and move on from the troubling news. However, not eleven days later, I was walking through the garden when I was nearly deafened by a blood curdling scream from Julia, our resident gardener extraordinaire, who came sprinting past me shouting "SNAKE, SNAKE". I turned around and ran into the house faster than even Caster Semenya, screeching like a wild woman for my all too calm fiancee to come and help immediately. No problem was the response, and soon enough the male boomslang was removed from the bush right near our verandah, and sent off on his merry way. I was told again, that these reptiles ALSO like having a mate around, so now I was dealing with not one, but TWO friends somewhere...
Another eleven days passed and lo and behold, a puffadder in our rubbish bin... not two meters from our kitchen door and on a path frequented not only by us, but our children. My nerves were starting to shatter one by one and these snakes were getting to me in a big way. Not to worry, I was told that we had "had our three" and as everything happened in threes, we were now over our snake experiences.
But clearly someone has a sense of humour, as eleven days later, whilst driving happily along the national road in his "bakkie", my fiancee noticed something out of the corner of his eye whilst looking ahead... there was another boomslang, clearly the other chaps little mate, who was IN the engine, emerging at pace along the windshield. The brakes were SLAMMED ON and the poor chap in the car behind narrowly escaped driving straight into the same said bakkie. This bakkie is rather old and sadly, it's window does not not electrically wind up as quickly as it should, or as it used to in its year of purchase (a long time ago), but that button was pulled so hard whilst watching the snake slither its way along the window, clearly not loving the wind it was meeting on the ride!! Upon reaching the farm, the snake had disappeared, and when opening the bonnet, was nowhere to be seen. There have been hunts high, and hunts low, and nowhere is the resident reptile...
I have learnt two huge things from this... firstly, I LOVE Autumn the acceleration of hibernation I hope is taking place and secondly, no matter what, I need to travel in my own vehicle at ALL times...
Speaking of mambas...I also love that our snake population has decided to move off and stop seriously affecting my "chi" on a daily basis.
I was told before I moved here that in terms of snakes "about one a year" would be found in the garden. WRONG! So far, we seem to have averaged one every eleven days, and I am starting to realise that "one a year" was a bit of a marketing trick, especially knowing how much I fear and dread all things reptile.
My first experience with a Table Farm snake came in the form of a huge cobra which was found slothing around in the sheep shearing shed. They apparently have a "mate" at most times of their lives, which means that it's little friend is still wondering around here somewhere.
I thought I had got my head around the fact that I did not see the snake and had not seen its friend, so I decided I needed to be brave and move on from the troubling news. However, not eleven days later, I was walking through the garden when I was nearly deafened by a blood curdling scream from Julia, our resident gardener extraordinaire, who came sprinting past me shouting "SNAKE, SNAKE". I turned around and ran into the house faster than even Caster Semenya, screeching like a wild woman for my all too calm fiancee to come and help immediately. No problem was the response, and soon enough the male boomslang was removed from the bush right near our verandah, and sent off on his merry way. I was told again, that these reptiles ALSO like having a mate around, so now I was dealing with not one, but TWO friends somewhere...
Another eleven days passed and lo and behold, a puffadder in our rubbish bin... not two meters from our kitchen door and on a path frequented not only by us, but our children. My nerves were starting to shatter one by one and these snakes were getting to me in a big way. Not to worry, I was told that we had "had our three" and as everything happened in threes, we were now over our snake experiences.
But clearly someone has a sense of humour, as eleven days later, whilst driving happily along the national road in his "bakkie", my fiancee noticed something out of the corner of his eye whilst looking ahead... there was another boomslang, clearly the other chaps little mate, who was IN the engine, emerging at pace along the windshield. The brakes were SLAMMED ON and the poor chap in the car behind narrowly escaped driving straight into the same said bakkie. This bakkie is rather old and sadly, it's window does not not electrically wind up as quickly as it should, or as it used to in its year of purchase (a long time ago), but that button was pulled so hard whilst watching the snake slither its way along the window, clearly not loving the wind it was meeting on the ride!! Upon reaching the farm, the snake had disappeared, and when opening the bonnet, was nowhere to be seen. There have been hunts high, and hunts low, and nowhere is the resident reptile...
I have learnt two huge things from this... firstly, I LOVE Autumn the acceleration of hibernation I hope is taking place and secondly, no matter what, I need to travel in my own vehicle at ALL times...
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