Negative Soundbyters – evening greetings and salutations from my patio. Yes you did not misread that; I am sitting outside at my wrought iron patio table enjoying the last few hours of twilight before darkness descends. It is a race to see whether I can finish this blog before I need to rely on a torch – I think it is possible!
I look out over our little patch and it has definitely come a very long way since those days when it was difficult to tell whether some unexploded World War II ordinance buried behind my house (originally destined for Clapham Junction – a major railway interchange just up the road) had ended up exploding or whether it was a just another building site!
As per previous posts the artificial turf has added a space that is usable across all seasons and even the finishing touches, like my bird bath, give it that timeless feel. Well, that’s a slight exaggeration; the bird bath has yet to entice a single one of my feathery friends and is currently sitting empty – and forlornly – beneath the birdseed feeder. I even put a stone in it – like a pool step – but to no avail. Not even our Mission Impossible squirrel has had a crack at it even if to have a sip of water before trying to squirrel away some birdseed.
I continue to cast my eye. The rose bushes are in full bloom. Mrs H had me install some wire lines across the fence to entice the roses to track the fence as opposed to drooping onto the lawn. Success if I my say so myself – as in installed in accordance with the instructions and without breaking off any of the stems. I wouldn’t say call me “Green Fingers” just yet, but I’m pretty damn close!
However the pièce de résistance – and the pride of any true Saffa – is the braai area. I would be lying if I said that from an aesthetic (read Mrs H) perspective it shouts “outdoor kitchen” but it’s functional; it gets the job done. Two Webers sit side-by-side; the mini for a quick Tuesday night family steak and the maxi for larger occasions and multiple courses e.g. boere wors to start followed by steak, chops or chicken. This is not a place where vegetarians are welcome – this is where meat is cooked and eaten, preferably alongside a busty red…..er wine! (Before I am accused of being an anti-veggie, you are most welcome at Foxholme, but standing by the braai is a sacred place where we pay homage to MEAT!).
And finally for the more sophisticated braaier – the Big Green Egg. This is not just any braai, it’s the Big Green Egg. Thankfully I had Adam, a very good friend of mine, to assist me in assembling it or should I say, he assembled it and I made sure the biltong bowl was full and his beers cold. We thought it would take 20 minutes; um no…two-and-half hours later I put the ceramic lid on and wheeled it into the corner. Rafey tried to help as well until he tried to eat the thermometer which is a precision instrument required for those long, slow roasted meat dishes that you put on at seven in the morning and reveal them twelve hours later. I have now entered the league of professional braaiers although Mrs H will probably take the reins in the first instance – and I will pour the wine!
And on that nosey note, let’s move on…
Big Love to All
Hoddy X
Furry toys.
As kids we all had our favourites. I had a couple – one was called Benjy Bear, the other I can’t recall its name but by the time I had to give it up it had done some hard yards in keeping me comforted and safe. It’s not that I had pulled the stuffing out; but either I sat on it a lot or it was manhandled to within an inch of its furry life because it was sort of limp by the time I had finished with it.
I have started introducing Rafey to some of his furry toys which I have named Rob the Rabbit and Bernie the Bear. A* for originality – along the lines of Peppa Pig and Bob the Builder (minus the gazillions of pounds earned by their creators).
I got home from work and Rafe was careering around the kitchen in his baby walker – getting under Mrs H’s feet while she was trying to make dinner, trying to access the herb drawer for the umpteenth time and just being a baby pest. I had to distract the little blonde bullet.
I retrieved Rob and Bernie from the toy sack and started doing my best furry toy impressions gleaned from snippets of Baby TV et al. “Rafeeeeee, it’s Rob the Rabbit here….and Berneeeee the Bear…what have you been up to today…?” and I jiggled them together as if they were mates.
This stopped Rafe dead in his tracks. Where had these strange creatures come from and why were they sitting on my Papa’s knee?
Rafe knows the word “kisses” and whenever Mrs H picks him up in the morning she says “kisses” and he plants a smacker on her lips. For some reason I started repeating the word “kisses” and putting Rob’s lips to Bernie’s snout. It did occur to me that Rob and Bernie in my make-believe-world are both male toys, but I am all about new age parenting so while Rob and Bernie had a good smooch, Rafe assessed his options.
Suddenly he bolted into action; if Rob and Bernie had been real they both would have shat themselves. Compared to the toys, Rafe is a giant and with a messy blonde mop, three teeth, and flashing blue eyes strapped into a walker powered by mini tree trunks, he made for a fierce some sight.
He charged up to me, nattering away in baby-speak, grabbed both Rob and Bernie with his gadget hands and started flailing them about – like a dog with a stick. My attempts at “kisses” were met with Rob’s nose disappearing into Rafe’s mouth and Bernie’s paws following soon thereafter. Once he had finished mauling them he threw them both out of the walker and proceeded to reverse over them.
I was like “Dude, not cool.” He looked at me with something bordering on disdain, lined up a prostrate and injured Rob-and Bernie and ran over them on his way back to the herb drawer.
Needless to say Rob and Bernie are safer sleeping in the toy sack tonight than Rafe’s cot. Maybe next time…:)
OUT !!
Pic of the Week
Okay some artistic license this week!
