Thirteen hundred meters too far

 Good morning, dear Blogger friends. Once again, I have been absent since posting about my recent birthday. As always work and social commitments pile up and I just don't get to post a blog.

Meanwhile, something happened the last weekend of February that almost ended in a disaster for me. 

I have not taken Skabby to the weekly Parkrun during the summer, for obvious reasons - it's been too hot. However, once a month there is a 5km run/walk starting at a local hotel, meandering along a loop through rough bush terrain and returning to the hotel. It starts at 5pm and although the weather was 30° C, I thought it would be cool enough to take Skabby,

He was ECSTATIC! He couldn't believe he was being taken in the car - for WALKIES. 

At the venue, everyone greeted him enthusiastically as he'd not been seen on walks with me since before Christmas. He lapped up all the attention and squealed and yelped in anticipation of the walk. 

You will see by the way the dog is off the screen - he was pulling me to get started! 

Once we started to walk, I let Skabby off the leash. He galloped ahead, ran between the walkers and runners ahead; dashed back to see where I was; ran off into the bush beside the track. He was SO excited to be walking with Mum again after so long. 

All good and well. We covered 4.5km without mishap; I called Skabby back to me and leashed Skabby up again. As we started off again, I heard my dog's breath rasping. Loudly. 

The weather had closed in and a storm, (of which Skabby is terrified) was brewing.  We crested a hill on top of which Zama, one of the hotel receptionists, had a table a large carafe of iced water. I stopped, drank a glass; filled the glass and poured it over Skabby's neck while I drank another glass full, and poured another glass over Skabby. I asked Zama how far to the hotel from that point. I told her that I needed to get my dog to the end. She said that shortly along the track, I should take a sharp left, and within a few hundred meters I would be approaching the end. 

However, when I reached the sharp left fork, I noticed runners sprinting up a hill to the right. Tugging Skabby's leash, I urged him with me, and we started to climb. Near the top, one of the runners (coming back) told me to turn around as Skabby would NOT make it up the incline. Which I did, with the very tired dog dragging behind me.

We reached the left fork with the river running along our right. By now, Skabby's back legs were buckling and at one stage he pulled me into some bushes next to the track and tried to lie down. I urged him to get up and we staggered onwards.   

Here I checked my steps on my smart watch: 6.3km. Far more than the 5km that we are normally used to. 

The steps leading up to the hotel lawn; I took this photo two days ago, facing downwards. You can see the steep gradient of these steps...

We came to the bottom of a set of 20 medieval stone steps which lead up to the hotel lawn. I managed to put Skabby's front paws on the second step and lifted his hind legs onto the first step. Just then other friends of mine arrived, and the gentleman helped me walk the dog up the steps. We got him across the lawn, and he collapsed on a ramp leading onto the veranda. 

By now it was drizzling, and realizing that my dog was overheated and exhausted, I lay him out on the concrete. Another friend, Bellle, who loves Skabby, came by and seeing what was happening she dashed into the bar and emerged with the largest plastic container filled with ice from the machine. 

While she packed ice around Skabby, talking to him all the while I found a bowl and dipped it into a fountain on the veranda. I poured water over Skabby. 

The hotel veranda was packed with guests enjoying the mountain view before going into dinner. The other runners from the walk, were sitting on a deck above where we were ministering to Skabby.  As people walked past, they'd stop and inquire whether the dog had had a heart attack. Thinking to myself, I hope not, I'd say, no, he's suffering from the heat. 

The hotel owner, Sunny, another a good friend of mine, arrived asking if she could assist in any way. I said I would like to phone the vet and ask his advice. She took me to her office, where I was able to raise the emergency vet on duty who happened to be engaged to the younger daughter of my farmer/neighbor's Gab and Nune. Jeff, who has known Skabby these past six years, advised me to cool him down (which Belle and I had been doing); to calm him down, as he'd be stressed with all the activity around him and to get him home! I shared this last instruction from the vet, with Sunny. 

When we got back to the ramp where Belle had managed to cool  Skabby quite significantly, although he was still very hot, a guest came by and asked if we needed help to get the dog my car. Sunny, who enlisted the help of a young male hotel employee. My Group Assistant from town had walked that night, while her husband, who has just had a heart attack scare, waited on the hotel deck. He took my car keys and within minutes had returned with a blanket which I use on my back seat when transporting Skabby. 

We managed to roll Skabby onto a blanket; the two men lifted each end and between them carried the dog, sling style across the veranda, through a reception lounge, with Sunny going ahead and opening doors and out onto the side veranda to the car park. While wending my way through the guests sitting at small tables on the veranda, enjoying pre-dinner drinks, I thought of how off the wall I am. Recently several of my contemporaries have had scares with their husbands taking ill (like my elderly neighbor at Christmas time) and my Group Assistant who'd had to rush her husband to hospital only ten days before this, here I am following kind people carrying my very sick dog to the car. 

When I arrived home, I parked the car and had no illusions about finding my darling Skabby alive. Miraculaously,  when I opened the back door, he lifted his head. Hallelujah! I dragged him off the back seat onto the lawn next to my car. 

 And thought, now what?

Punching Gab's number on my phone pad, he answered within seconds. I apologized for bothering him on a Friday night, but asked if he and Nune could please come and assist me with my dog which had collapsed next to the car. 

A few minutes later and they both arrived: Nune wielding a handheld torch. They both bent to look at Skabby and when they felt the dog, they were horrified at how hot he was. Nune ran to my veranda and on my instructions had taken a sealed bag of ice cubes from the freezer. Gab and I dragged Skabby across the lawn and onto the veranda. 

Nune and I packed ice around his body while Gab fetched my fan from indoors, started it and angled it towards the dog. Then he took the hose pipe and gently tricked water over Skabby while Nune and I continued to layer ice blocks around and under his body. 

Nune muttered that she could see Skabby drooling. The vet told me afterwards he was dehydrated through saliva and vomit emitting from his mouth. Skabby has very floppy lips and Nune gently placed ice cubes under his lips while I packed ice on the back of his neck. All the while, Gab was gently hosing Skabby's body down. 

After 45 minutes of the three of us, literally fighting for my dog's life, finally Gab said he thought Skabby's body heat was back to normal. He suggested I leave him on the veranda with the fan blowing directly onto him. He also said, he hoped not,  but if ANYTHING happened, I was to call them during the night.

These two wonderful people went back over the lawn to their home for the night. 

As you can see, my poor dog was sopping wet with ice melting under his body. However, here he seemed to be lying in a more natural pose compared to earlier

Once I had gone indoors (I needed a bath after my walk in the heat earlier), I kept coming back to look at Skabby through the glass panels of my door.  I did this every couple of minutes. I couldn't imagine that I would get much sleep that night. 

Then disaster struck! The storm which had built up while we were walking, arrived on the farm. As mentioned above,  Skabby is terrified of storms. I heard a rather close thunderclap seconds before I sensed (rather than saw) the lightning strike. 

And when I looked up again, Skabby was gone!

To be continued...

Finally, a sad farewell

 Good morning, dear Blogger friends. As all good things do, the holiday in Spain came to an end. 

But hey ho! We had SUCH a wonderful stay with my dear sister Rose, and BIL, Pete. 

When Celia and I were shopping on our own, we desperately searched for a "fun medal".  But no such luck. That last Sunday while we sat in Pete's car hire business office, I spotted a medal hanging on the wall behind my nephew's desk.

When Rose popped into the powder room, Celia and I asked Mark if we could borrow it. He took it down and handed it to Celia. It was our intention to present Rose with a "Best driver and tour director" award.

The medal hanging on the wall behind my nephew, Mark

Medal of excellence awarded to Rose as the best driver, tour director, restrateur and hostess in Europe! 

We're grateful that the men in the office, humored us and even photographed the awards ceremony! 

And then it was time to be taken to the Malaga airport. Oh sigh. 

Just two weeks earlier we had been collected from here and Rose drove us to Fuengirola to start our Spanish holiday!

Although I'd been walking unaided on holiday, I had to use my crutches on the return trip for two reasons: 1) I had nowhere to store my crutches which had to return to SA and,  2) once again, we were booked  as asssisted travel on the airplane! What a pleasure! 

Celia turns to send Rose a heart gesture. 

I didn't turn around: goodbyes are just so sad 

Off to be checked into the boarding lounge

During the two-hour layover at Charles de Gaulle (Paris), I had an airport official trundle me through to the boarding lounge. Celia trotted alongside, taking photos!

After a pleasant overnight flight on Air France (we loved KLM on the way out but found Air France very professional on the way home), we landed at OR Tambo airport, Johannesburg, South Africa.

Back home we were assisted to the boarding lounge by a very friendly airport official. WE WERE HOME! 

THANK YOU ROSE AND PETE, FOR AN UNFORGETTABLE HOLIDAY! 

Shopping Spainish style

 Good morning, dear Blogger friends. I'm trying to visit your blogs to show I am up and about again in Blogland. However, on Saturday evening,  we had a heavy storm with a terrifying lightning strike which knocked out the universal cell phone tower in the Valley. Last night, I couldn't access blog comments, try as I might. I will get to blog hopping and visiting soon. 

Meanwhile I'll share the last couple of days of our Spain trip with my sister. 

When women go on a shopping excursion together, you'll often find one of them is looking for something special. And rather than being an irritant to her shopper mates, they dive in enthusiastically in the quest to source her treasure. 

I was that lady who was looking for a special headdress for a wedding back in South Africa in July. I wanted long black or red gloves. No problem, said my sister, I know just the shop. Off we sped through the city, down a side street and stopped at a haberdashery which she said would have this item. Entering a shop where two ladies were sitting behind sewing machines with swathes of beautiful cloth around the workspace, my sister explained in Spanish, what we were looking for.  

They did INDEED have gloves but not satin or cotton as I seemed to want. They had black lacy gloves. Too beautiful. And the price was so good that I bought two pairs with different patterns.

As we passed the window display from the inside, my sister reminded me that I had wanted a fascinator - and there were several set out beautifully in the window. Rose asked the shopkeeper to bring out the one I pointed out. Here the price was exorbitant, (I mean, this is a piece of lace, with a couple of feathers and a clasp to secure it to your hair.) Unfazed, my sister said she would pay for it. I had my gloves and fascinator!

Next Celia said she was looking for a piece of cloth to take home to a lady in her church. Of course, it wouldn't be just any cloth. It had to be a special piece of material. 

Once again Rose said, no problem. We three piled back into her car and she set off in another direction. This time I could see that the surrounds was less upmarket. Suddenly she turned the car into an alley and parked on the sidewalk. She indicated that Celia and I accompany her into her Arabic cloth merchant.

 Inside the large warehouse type shop, were bales and bales of different cloth. All very reasonably priced. I'm no seamstress, but Celia and Rose are talented sewers and oohed and aahed over the selection on display. 

This Arabic shop was nostalgically reminiscent of my furors into the souks of Khartoum many years ago. Here Celia proudly displays her purchase. I suggested that we have a photo outside the shop for Celia to prove to her friend she'd not bought the cloth in South Africa! 

Me wearing my Africa dress in Spain.

I asked Celia to snap me in this dress. I knew I was going to blog about our trip and this dress played a significant role in me deciding when we would travel. Way back in November last year, Rose had told me they would like to gift me with a flight to Spain for my 70th birthday. Because she is aware of my various irons in the fire, she said: don't stress; you decide when you would like to come. 

In February this year I saw this dress displayed in a quaint supermarket/gift shop, The Oaks, in the Valley. I bought it; phoned Rose and said I would like to come and visit in May 2023. I then notified my SIL, Celia, who had been rearing to go. She was thrilled that I had set a date!  

Back in the city that day, we had shopped up a storm, and were mighty thirsty by now, so Rose took us to their favorite barista Mia Coffee shop for refreshments.

Three shoppers stopping for a cuppa and a bite.

Back at the apartment, we three relaxed at the pool 

after our city shopping spree.

The next morning, Saturday, was our penultimate day of our lovely holiday with Rose. And Saturday markets in Fuengorila are not to be missed. 

Before we set out, Rose cooked us breakfast while Celia and I dressed for our day's shopping. Again. 

I popped into the kitchen showing Rose how thrilled I was with the previous day's purchases. 

Happy! 

We arrived at the Saturday market held weekly in the Fuengirola fairground and which boasts some 300 stalls. You are simply SPOILT FOR CHOICE! 

Rose waited at the entrance to the markets while Celia and I shopped. We were glad because we wanted to buy two plants for our hosts: Peace Lily which originates from the rainforests of Columbia and Venezuela.  We wanted one for their car hire office and one for their apartment. Peace lily is associated with tranquility and serenity. Apparently having this plant in your home, also promotes health and wellbeing. 

At first, we thought we were looking for a needle in a haystack. Finally, I spotted a stall with plants on display. And lo and behold, they had healthy peace lilies in pots! 

Emerging victorious from the street market! 

Later back at the apartment, Rose was preparing a light lunch for us; Celia was watching Italian Open Tennis. 

 I was relaxing...

I am doing Legs up the wall yoga discipline as we learnt in our Taigelates class** here in the Valley. The benefits of Legs up the Wall are, among other things, deep relaxation, stress relief, knee pain reduction and neck tension relief.

Another memorable day with my beloved sister, Rose and SIL,  Celia. 

Note: ** Taigalates: our exercise class here in the Valley, is a combination of three disciplines: Tai chi; yoga and pilates. The word is an orginal coined by our exercise guru, Caroline. 

WISHING YOU A GREAT TUESDAY

A Spanish sea trip

 Good morning, dear Blogger friends. Thank you for your comments, even though I have been absent.

The road trip over, once back in Fuengirola, we were then treated to a trip on the harbor. 

Fuengirola is a city on the Costa del Sol, in the province of Malaga, within the autonomous community of Andalusia, in the center of the southern Spain coast. (Phew, that's a mouthful!)  The city has its origins in Phoenician, Roman and Moorish civilizations. Today it is a major tourist center with more thank 8km /5 miles, of wide beaches with a subtropical Mediterranean climate.

Driving us to Benalmadena bay, Rose booked us on a luxury day cruiser. All around us were luxury yachts moored and waiting for their owners to take them out of a weekend. 

After the first mate had given us the regulatory safety demonstration, the captain fired the engines, and we headed out to sea. 

The claim to fame of these seagoing tours, is to show visitors the dolphins, which are always prolific. However, that day, although we were out at sea, and could drink in the beautiful city, sparkling in the sunshine behind us, the dolphins were most elusive that day.

Me sister, Rose and I aboard the tour boat

We South Africans were not fazed at all, as when we get to the sea back home, we see dolphins. Often! 

After an hour, we turned around and headed for home. The crew was most apologetic that we'd not seen any dolphins. To keep the passengers entertained, the captain called the small children, one by one, and allowed them to "steer" the ship. Their proud mums leapt up and took photos for the family holiday album.

As we three ladies were seated just behind the cabin, I never realized that I, (granny on the ship) would be next in line. The captain took me by the hand and seated me at the controls. 

I'd watched the captain showing the children to pose with a hand on the hip and look back at mama. To his obvious delight, I did the same! 

Back at Rose' apartment, Celia and I enjoyed the sunshine at the pool while Rose prepared lunch.

A Continental feast; the perfect end to a perfect morning 

HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY! 

Rest in peace, my friend

 Good afternoon dear Blogger friends. Once again, I have been absent since 28th September 2023 due to work pressures and social commitments. But hey - ho. Here I am again...

Re Diane's comment on my Blog about a mutual friend's passing; this wasn't out of context.  Lynda, who lived in Tanzania, and whom I met on her interesting blog, ultimately encouraged me to start blogging. Am I grateful to her! 

It was also through her blog that I met and connected with many bloggers: Diane, (my life in Charente); Penny, Lori, Skoog farm journal. 

Her blog and our private emails between her in East Africa and me (I lived in West Africa those days), provided a good basis when Grant and I eventually lived in Tanzania.

In 2009, Grant and I met Lynda and her parents in the Eastern Cape and spent a great morning together. Sadly, her mum passed away suddenly a year later. Her dad, who was battling cancer at the time, passed in 2012. 

Reading about Lynda's death was a great shock all. 

REST IN PEACE, DEAR FRIEND

 

With a little help from my friends...

 ...with apologies to The Beatles. And here I learned something today. I always thought that Joe Cocker was the original artist. 

Mmmm

We live and learn.

Good morning to my Blogger friends. Back to my injury before my holiday.  

The day I fell and was taken to the doctor, had X-rays and back to the doctor who arranged surgery in the city later that day, the Easter weekend was looming. And with me, long weekends (in fact, any weekend) I have holiday guests. In fact, I regulary have weekly guests too.

This was the case at the time of my fall. I had guests leaving on Thursday morning and the next guests checking in at 14h00 that same day. While waiting in the back of John and Ron's car to be taken to the hospital, I contacted my friend, Shelley. She and her husband own a large hotel. She also owns private holiday accommodation on the same estate where Grant and I lived before his death.  Even as I asked her if she could absorb my guests, I knew what the answer would be. It was the Easter long weekend, the middle of school holidays. Of course, there was no accommodation available in the Valley. 

While chatting, Shelley suddenly suggested that she could go and clean The Bunker and prepare it for the incoming guests. Can you BELIEVE that I have friends like this? Thanking her, I asked Ron to collect my holiday bags which I use to carry clean linen, toiletries etc.  On the way out, we first stopped at the hotel, Shelley took the bag and told me to worry no more about my guests. I was to focus on getting my knee surgery done and rest afterwards. 

Phew, the mind boggles at the community I live in.

After surgery and resting well over the long weekend (I mentioned in a previous post how Ron and Janine looked after me), it was Tuesday. Every Tuesday I run Weigh-Less groups in town. A member from the Valley Group had offered to transport me so Patrys drove me to my meeting, my Group Assistant and her DIL and granddaughter set up the tables and posters and I on crutches, weighed each member privately in the anteroom. I always do a motivational talk which I did this day as well. 

Wednesdays I run four online groups. This I do from home.

On Thursday it was time for my Valley Weigh-Less group. Ronnie took me to the venue, and while I rested knee on another chair, my Group Assistant weighed the members and did the talk afterwards. Sharyn, my Valley GA is very engaged with our members.

This was the pattern for the month of April. My Weigh-Less Groups continued with my friends helping.

Meanwhile, members continued to lose weight. Members continued to reach goal weight.

A couple reached their respective goal weight at the same time. 

I was able to award their Goal Weight certificates. 

Ron continued to drive me and Thandi to our accommodation to clean and prepare.  My Winterton Group Assistant's DIL, Helen told Ron that she would also help. The next week Helen and Chloe collected me and Thandi and took us to The Bunker. 

Chloe and Thandi fold the fleece throw while Helen changes pillow cases

Once a week Ronnie drove me to the physio in town. The first week on the therapist's bed, I was able to bend knee 11° . A week later we were at 33°. Two weeks after the surgery, Ron took me to the doctor who removed the 12 clamps and bandaged my knee. He told me to continue using the brace and crutches to move around. He gave me a reprieve:  I could sleep without the brace if I promised not to toss and turn. 

By the fourth week at the physio, I was able to bend knee 90°! The therapist said she had never seen such determination! 

I used the brace and crutches religiously 

Using the Thera band along with several other home exercises from the therapist, I improved mobility dramatically

All along I motivated my members to continue on their Weigh-Less program. I emphasized that even without my normal daily workout, I was still able to keep healthy and NOT gain weight.  

And using my accident, I reminded them that losing weight could ONLY be good for your joints: hips, knees and ankles. 

Motivational posters which I shared online with my members while I was recovering

I rest my case...

Winter with a vengeance

 Good morning, dear Blogger friends. Winter has arrived. Last week the temperatures dropped drastically from Tuesday. On Thursday, the sun didn't even bother to put in an appearance, leaving us with a whole day of dark grey cloud, drizzly, freezing rain and very cold air.  

Friday dawned. Some of the clouds lifted. And the mountains were white!

The Central Drakensberg last Friday

The same snowy peaks taken from a private property in the Valley

As can be seen from the second photo, the snow only appears on the high Berg and peaks. As soon as news of the snowfall hits the socials, prospective guests from the coast, phone asking that, if they came, would their children be able to play in the snow in garden! As can be seen in the photo above, you'd have to drive to the end of the tarred road, get out and hike at least three hours up into the mountains, before getting to the snow. 

With our warm sunshine the snow soon melts and only the high areas in Lesotho remain covered for longer. 

On Sunday I attended a church service held on a farm about 30 minutes' drive from the farm. I rode with a friend who had asked me earlier if I knew how to read pin directions. I can and she was fascinated that the voice emanating from my phone directed us to the garden of our hosts!

As I normally am cleaning The Bunker after guests and before the next ones check in on Sundays, I don't often get to church. This weekend I had guests staying until Monday, so I managed to get to this service, which had a braai (BBQ) and social get- together afterwards.

Thankfully, when it came to taking communion, we were asked to file past the priest and layman. Although my knee is quite mobile, I still find it a challenge kneeling on it.

Communion with a difference

I'd already been up for communion when I took this photo above. Sitting in the warm sunshine in a beautiful garden, I was reminded of Grant. In 2012, while we were touring London, he expressed the wish to take communion in St George's Cathedral. We visited this beautiful house of worship and read that there were several Eucharist Services in a given day.

I remember filing past the priest with hundreds of other communicants, partaking of the bread and wine.  Grant got his wish! 

And then she fell...

 Good morning, Blogger friends. Thank you for all the wonderful comments this week, I am up and running and blogging full steam ahead again. 

However, three months ago, I inflicted the worst ever inconvenience and pain on myself. On Wednesday morning, 5th April, I left the farm office at 11.15. Inside my cottage, I placed my phone and other paraphernalia on my desk, in readiness to do my online talks for the Virtual Weigh-Less Groups which I run worldwide. 

While doing this, I heard Nurse start the ride-on mower. I went outside and pulled the rolled-up hosepipe onto my veranda, to save Nurse having to do this.  As I turned around, my left foot hooked the hosepipe and I fell full length onto the concrete floor, landing on my right knee.

With me the glass is always half-full as opposed to half-empty. So telling myself this has not happened, I pushed myself into a standing position, using my arms. I promptly fell down again. My knee just wouldn't support me. Dragging my right leg behind me, I slithered indoors to my desk; I reached up for the little A-frame calendar and counted...I saw that I had four weeks and four days before flying out to Spain.

Then only did I pull my cell phone towards me. I rang my neighbor, Ron, who at a hair appointment in town, and who always answers her phone on loudspeaker, took my call. So, when I said (with hysteria in my voice) "Ron, I fell and hurt my knee; please come and help", within a short time, the whole town knew about my fall!

Using furniture to get around the house, I'd found Grant's hiking stick in a cupboard. When Ron arrived in my lounge, with her supporting me, and using the stick, I managed to hobble to her car. She took me straight to my doctor, 40km away. After he checked my knee, and pronounced that I had cracked the kneecap, he fit me a pair of crutches. He asked Ron to take me to Ladysmith hospital for X-rays.  As he was due to run his clinic in another village that afternoon, he asked us to return in the morning with the results. 

Bandaged by the doctor, I spent an anxious night worrying about my injury

The next morning, John and Ron loaded me into their car and took me back to the doctor. When he checked the X-ray on his computer screen, he confirmed that I had cracked my kneecap; not once, not twice, but THREE times! He made arrangements with an orthopedic surgeon in Hilton Life Hospital. He warned me not to eat anything as I would be undergoing surgery that evening. 

 Arriving at the hospital, Ron fetched a wheelchair and helped me into it. While she and John went the cafeteria to have lunch, a very friendly man arrived, introduced himself as my doctor and pushed me to his rooms down the passage. As we were traversing the corridors, I told him that I was due to go on holiday in four weeks - and now - three days' time. He promised me that I would make the trip in time!

Once all the admin for my medical plan was sorted out and my operation scheduled for 6.30, Ron and John came to greet me and left to drive back to the farm. It was the night before Good Friday, the Easter long weekend... I certainly chose my dates well😞

Later that evening, as I was wheeled into theatre, the anesthetist, theatre nurse, an assistant nurse preparing the theatre bed and the doctor, all chorused: You are going to Spain in four weeks! 

Waking up later, I felt no pain and when I checked my leg, I saw a beautifully bandaged knee.  Oh this isn't too bad, I thought.  

Mmm

The next morning a young man arrived and proceeded to fit a brace to my leg. He showed me how to adjust it to be able to bend the knee when needed and when to tighten it. 

EISH! I know it was a whole lot better than a plaster cast and I am grateful this is the route my surgeon went with me. But oh WOW! This contraption was very uncomfortable, especially once I was home and trying to sleep. 

At first this seemed an object of torture, but ultimately it helped heal my knee 

After the surgeon visited me in the ward and explained what he had done to repair my knee, he said I could go home. Thinking of my four jobs and that three of these entail travel around the Valley, I asked the million-dollar question: when may I drive again. Fixing a stern eye on me, he said in SIX weeks' time!  He also said: "don't swing that leg"; use it carefully,  while wearing the brace; rest as much as possible; and with physio, in a month's time, I'd be able to bend the knee 90 degrees. 

 He summarily discharged me from hospital!

This time, my other neighbors, who were in the city that week, came to fetch me. Janine walked in with her future SIL, who qualified as a vet earlier this year, saying I've engaged the vet's help! Together they helped me into the wheelchair, and while Jer chatted to me, Janine collected my prescription from the hospital pharmacy. 

Back on the farm, Janine helped me to my room and told me to stay there for the long weekend! I needed no further encouragement:  I was exhausted after the trauma of the past three days; surgery the night before and the trip home. By now the knee area was throbbing with pain. Janine administered my pain meds.  She also said she'd bring me lunch and something for dinner.  After she'd left, Ron arrived, pulled up a chair and sat with me for a while asking about the op, and if she could make me tea or do anything for me. 

What friends...

And so ended the first lesson towards a month-long saga facing me, with several friends helping me run my businesses while being basically legless! 

Luncheon in June; High tea in July

 Good morning dear Blogger friends. This week is a short week (we have Youth Day looming on Thursday) I have no breaks: I am in the office three morning and I am doing Weigh-Less groups on Tuesday afternoon. On Wednesday morning, while in the office, I also run my four online groups. After lunch Thandi and I Thandi and I will clean The Bunker for guests after guests who have been in since Sunday and prep for the next guests arriving for the long weekend. 

On Friday morning I travel to Pietermaritzburg for business. After this is sorted, I will travel further south to Durban. I hope to have time to pop into the Weigh-Less Head Office and collect stock while meeting up with the staff whom I hear often on the phone, but do not see often. 

Friday night I will stay with biker friends in Durban North. 

The next day I am attending an awards  ceremony and luncheon for Avon Top Sellers. I am quite looking forward to this.

I fall into the Platinum Plus Achievers category

(Watch this space in case I get an award! Whoopwhoop!)

At the same time earlier this month, I received an invitation to a friend's 60th birthday celebration. 

I look forward to attending this birthday party! 

  

HAPPY TUESDAY TO YOU ALL! 

Papa's forever home

 Dear Blogger friends. This is a story with a happy ending. 

Once upon a time a Black-footed African Wildcat arrived at a lifestyle complex in the Central Drakensberg. One of the shopkeepers fed him and of course, he kept returning to her shop. His original name is Mr "Lifestyle center" which name I'll omit and Mr xx lived 15 years in this center. He was loved by all the shop owners and visitors to the center would look for him when they returned to the shops. 

By the time he was 15, many people knew him as Papa. And every time I visited my friend, Mary at her upmarket retail  shop, I would bend down and stroke Papa.

In February, when I popped in to see Mary, she was distraught. For reasons unknown, the owner of the complex had decided Papa has to go. Immediately I thought of my brother, Philip who lives on a farm outside Estcourt and told Mary to fret no more. 

I duly spoke to my brother and he agreed to give Papa a forever home. Two days before my birthday in February, I took one of my travel cages to Mary. We loaded Papa into the box and I carried him to Mary's car. Papa set to yowling from the time we left the 'Berg until we drove into my brother's yard.

I carried the cage into Phillip's spare room and we let Papa out. He sniffed at the counterpane and jumped up onto the double bed and settled down to sleep. Quite unusual as Papa had never slept indoors at the center.

Mmm.

Six weeks down the road and Papa has settled in like he has never lived anywhere else. My brother has a huge Calico cat, called Cat and two elderly dogs, Sissy and Tombi (Zulu for little girl). Although it took a few weeks for Cat to accept the newbie, the dogs continued as if Papa had always lived there. 

Phillip regularly sends me photos of Papa and I share them with Mary and dozens of people in the area who were horrified that this gentle old cat was unceremoniously evicted from the center.

However,  everyone at Phillip's Pet Hotel is living happily ever after. 

THE END

Papa, the well read cat 

Papa on HIS bed in the spare room 

Apparently Papa pulled the cushion off the chair seen in the photo and proceeded to lie on it

Happy families

My favorite image of dear Papa! Contentment  is...

I said it was a story with a happy ending! Mary and I are ever grateful to Phillip for taking Papa in. 

HAVE A GREAT SUNDAY! 

A memorable celebration

Dearest Blogger friends. Today I celebrate an auspicious occasion - on my own.

Today, 50 years ago on 4th March 1972, Grant and I married. 

When I look at my wedding album, the smiles and the expectation of great things waiting in our lives, I think, thank goodness we cannot see into the future...

Nevertheless, I've enjoyed a good life and even though, I was widowed more than four years ago, I decided that I was NOT going to ignore such an important date when it came around. 

Today, on my own,  I am celebrating my 50th anniversary. 

                                                 1972

                                2022

A more recent photo of me and Grant  at our son, Angus' wedding many years later

Thank you to my dear sister, Rose, on my right in the group wedding photo. Rose and I have always been close siblings even into our golden years.  And to my sister-in-law, Shelley, who married Grant's brother (the young man on the far left of the photo) a few years later and with whom I have had a close relationship for 46 years.  Rose and Shelley contacted me first thing this morning and said they were thinking of me. How very  special...

HAVE A GREAT FRIDAY