So firstly to all you ladies who pummeled me with questions – BP is still single, and still very very hot. Although he now has short hair, so possibly looks even hotter. (Sighs…having a flashback). Will let you know more as I get more info on facebook. Hey – he could become like a character on my blog (unbeknownst to him of course…hee hee).
So, where was I? Oh yes, family. Blech. (not my little family of course, because they rock, I’m talking about extended family of course).
Some of you asked how the ‘thing’ with my dad went…so I’ll tell you, because I’m nice like that hey?
I managed to get him to agree to come and see me right after work on Saturday last week, that way, he could come by himself (without evil wife no. 3 in tow) although part of me expected her to insist he swing by and pick her up on the way, it seems I was mistaken, and she either a) took the hint and backed off or b) actually I don’t care what she thought, the point is she didn’t come, and I won! Ha! Ha!
So he arrived around 1pm, and it was just him and I and the kids (hubby mysteriously suddenly had a work commitment involving ‘work clients’ and ‘box seats’ and honestly, I was too peeved to argue), but at least it gave my dad and I a chance to really talk.
You know what I discovered?
He really is quite nice all on his own. Without evil hag interrupting him all the time, I got to hear about this aunt and that uncle and this war story, and that nazi, and loads of things I found myself wishing he’d put into a book so his kids and grandkids can have a first hand account of his life, and well, it would be pretty educational to hear a bit about WW II and what it meant to people in nazi occupied Holland.
Every now and then I’d have to steer him back on track because he’d get so caught up in the family tree and trying to remember some obscure relatives name that he’d forget what he was originally talking about.
The bottom line is I’m really glad that it turned out this way, because I had a chance to explain my side of why I couldn’t be there, he actually understood, and was fine with it. Besides he was now armed with 5 hours of ‘visiting with Ness’ stories which he could ‘brag’ with the following day at the lunch. Man, how I hope he really played true to form and annoyed the hell out of evil brother Patrick* and evil half-sister Mary with tales of how he ‘spent all day with Ness, and her Skippy is talking so well, and Flipper is very cute…etc’ Ha ha ha. Anyway, I’m just glad I got out of the lunch without causing any kind of rift.
Now…onto Hubby’s family. Well we all know the sordid history of how *those* relationships turned sour, well, if you don’t here’s what you need to know in a nutshell:
MIL & FIL started a company. They were successful. SIL came out from England with new husband in tow, and pregnant. SIL persuaded MIL to give her a job. MIL, heady with excitement readily agreed, and made her (secretariallly skilled) daughter a director. SIL’s hubby, did not find work for several months. MIL kept increasing SIL’s salary, grossly overpaying her. Well how much should you be paid to play Tomb Raider all day? Anyhoo, I digress, fast forward…SIL & MIL approach my hubby (who at the time was still just my live-with BF) for help with business, and totally misrepresent the facts to him.
Anyhoo, hubby (I’m going to call him that for the sake of ease, although remember I had relatively little say in this as I was just a GF at this stage), decides to quit his hi-flying awesome paying IT job, and join the family business. He and SIL are made equal shareholders 30% each, and MIL retained remaining 40%. Company actually in bit of a downward trend. Hubby agrees on short term loan of cash from our mortgage – as our house had just increased in value by double. Company goes alright for awhile as hubby takes more control. Fast forward to just before we get married. I’m trying to keep this in a nutshell so I’m really going to summarise here – basically SIL had been taking all sorts of ridiculous expenses from family company and hiding it, full time nanny for child (who by now was nearly 2), cash withdrawals for her hubby etc etc – and basically ran up a huge amount of debt for which we were now responsible. Since MIL & FIL had recently also sold their house, they put some cash in and asked us to sell our house to cover the remainder. SIL could contribute nothing, because she had nothing to contribute…lovely. Anyway by this point we were married a few months, had already put money into the company twice, I was now a few months pregnant with Skippy, and hubby finally put his foot down, said “NO” thank god, and SIL decides the time is ripe for her and her hubby and child to run off to the UK. (Remember she came running back after 3 weeks?) anyway – her hubby finally found a decent job, and they’ve been paying off some of what they owe – although it will NEVER amount to what we put in – and we’ll never see a sent of what we put in either…but …I’ve moved on…bygones.
So..where was I? Oh yes, I was actually telling you about hubby’s side of the family, y’all know that after 4 years back here, SIL & co are on their way back to the UK again…so…we had them over for one last family lunch this weekend. More out of some bizarre sense of duty than anything else, and a chance for the cousins to see one another one last time.
Here’s the clincher in my story…eldest child of SIL & Co is 6. Let’s call him Brat okay? Totally spoiled selfish little git. I’m not prone to be nasty about kids, and I’m *not* taking into account what his mom did to us in my summation of him, he’s just badly behaved and well, just downright nasty.
Surprisingly enough, it’s his dad that is the good parent, and he duly tells him off for being rude etc. The thing is, he can’t watch him all the time, and it’s me, who constantly sees him playing with all of Skippy’s toys, and pushing Skippy away when he tries to join in, and always getting his way. He’s even broken some of Skippy’s toys purposefully when I’ve told him to share it, and he thinks I’m not looking.
So this past Sunday, we were done eating, and the two eldest boys (Brat 6 & Skippy 2 – nearly 3) are playing Wii golf. I was proud inwardly that Skippy was kicking Brat’s ass actually… anyway, I hear them start to yell, “It’s my turn, no it’s my turn, NO it’s MY TURN!” etc and just as I look up and over at where they’re standing in front of the TV, I see Brat take a swing at Skippy and slap him full on the mouth.
If you could flick a switch on my blood temperature, it just went from ‘slightly high pressure’ to ‘BOIL’.
“What did you JUST DO!?” I said to Brat.
“No, no, nothing, and it was my turn.”
“DON’T LIE TO ME. I SAW YOU HIT SKIPPY ON THE MOUTH” at which point I turn to his dad and nod and say, “yes I did just see him hit Skippy”.
“NO, well it wasn’t hard anyway.” was Brat’s answer.
Thankfully at that point his dad leapt up from the table and dragged him off into another room for punishment because if he hadn’t I swear I would have walked over and been hard pressed not to give him a taste of his own medicine. At this point SIL jumps up and runs after her husband shrieking, “Sweetheart, don’t hurt him, he said it wasn’t hard.”
At this point my hubby (who’d made a quick trip to our ensuite) came back into the room, and the look on my face, and poor Skippy’s (he was balling his eyes out) told him everything he needed to know.
Brat’s dad tells him he has to put the Wii remote down and go and apologise to Skippy, and he stomps back into the TV room and tries to THROW the remote (hello expensive gadget) down. Thankfully again, his dad was on top of him again, and dragged him back into the sitting room, and I heard the unmistakable sound of a single smack.
Believe it or not, Skippy was now so concerned about Brat, that all he wanted to do, was go and see if he was okay, and I follow him into the sitting room where he approaches brat, reaches out a hand (as he’s down to me when I’ve been in tears to say ‘sokay’) when Brat turns around and screeches at him to go away. Which upset Skippy even more.
Needless to say they left within 15 minutes of this scene, with Brat resolutely sitting in the back of the car, loudly announcing to anyone in the vicinity that he “Doesn’t like Skippy anymore”. (hurting his feelings even more).
Did I mention before that I’m really glad they’re going to England? Because I tell you what…once we’re in Aus, it’s extremely unlikely that we’ll be going to the UK for any reason, they won’t be able to visit us either, and I’ll be quite glad to put 10 000 miles and at least a decade between us.
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You know that part of facebook on the right hand side where it suggests people you might know?
Someone popped into mine a few days ago, and I did a double take, and realised I actually *did* know this person, and that it would be great to get in touch again. It’s probably the first time it’s suggested someone that I *actually* do know (or at least did).
Anyhoo, I will never forget the first time I laid eyes on this person.
It was 1999, the summer was just warming up in upstate NY and I was a counselor at a posh summer camp. Camp had not yet started for the campers, and just a handful of us counselors (returnees actually – as it was my second year there) were sitting in the cafeteria (salad bar actually – did I mention this camp was posh?), and just joking and laughing as usual, and planning where to go out that night (given we were 9 miles from the smallest town ever in upstate NY). When in walked some of the new counselors who’d just arrived from orientation at Columbia University.
Anyhow, I greeted the counselor in front – having recognised him from last year and he turned to introduce the newbies behind him when I nearly bit off the end of my fork as my eyes fell onto the guy bringing up the rear.
I would not be exaggerating if I said to you he was built like Brad Pitt was in “Troy”. He even had long hair like that role as well. Now I’ve never been into guys with long hair, but let me tell ya, I could’ve sure as hell made an exception *that* day. Lol. Seriously, ladies, the guy had pecs that you could bounce quarters off!
Anyway, to cut a long story short, I harboured a bit of a crush on the guy during the summer, even though I did snog a few other blokes, but anyhoo, we ended up spending a lot of our time together (he had a girlfriend back home, and said I reminded him of her, and he liked that I didn’t throw myself at him like all the other girls, and he felt he could talk to me! It pays to not be a slag sometimes folks!) and as a result of spending so much time together, a lot of people actually *did* think we were a bit of an item, but we weren’t, and I suppose it kept us in each others company, and we even spent a few days in NYC together after camp had ended.
After that I departed on a cross country trip of the USA, he stayed with a cousin in NYC and we stayed in touch via email, until a few months passed and I was back here, just starting a romance with what became my hubby, and he (Brad Pitt guy) was in France with his GF, when somehow we lost touch because we kept changing emails etc etc, you know how it goes etc.
Anyway, so when he popped into the ‘people you might know’ box, funnily enough I didn’t immediately think of him when I saw the last name, I actually had to think long and hard if that *might* actually be him.
So I figured, caution to the wind, sent him a message to say, HI and asked if this was the guy I knew from way back then etc, and today I got his reply, he accepted my friend request, and got back in touch with loads of news with what’s been going on since way back then, and even said how glad he was to hear from me, and asked about married life, the kids etc.
Now one of the reasons I often have him cross my mind, and no ladies, minds out the gutter please, it had nothing to do with his devilishly handsom pectoral and abdominal features, but rather, that when we were in NYC for those few days, one of the things we did together, was visit the top of the World Trade Center. We did some shopping in the mall on the ground floor there etc and even struck up a conversation with one of the shop assistants, who was interested to know about Australia and South Africa etc (he was Australian).
So of course when 911 happened, immediately I thought of BP guy, and even of the shop assistant we’d befriended (I still wonder if she got out alive). In fact I never fail to think of both of them whenever something about 911 is mentioned on TV etc. When I look back at the photos of us standing in up there, doing goofy poses, and ‘pretending’ to jump over the edge and stuff, I got goosebumps when I looked at the date I’d scrawled on the back (Sep 10th, 1999) realising that little did I know that two years later, almost exactly to the day, that great tragedy would occur.
Anyway, so we’re in touch again, and it’s nice, and no, I’m not reliving the crush I had on him all those years ago, but he was So great to talk to back then, I figure I’m lucky to have such a great person back in my life again.
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Okay, feel free to pause and re-insert your eyeballs after reading that title.
Okay good?
Right let’s go. (Takes deep breath) LSD trips are very common for South Africans at the moment.
(hears collective “Huh!?” from all foreign readers). Let me explain.
LSD, does not mean a drug, not by any means. It means, “Look, See and Decide.”
So what I’m saying is that at the moment there are many, many South Africans going on LSD trips around the world. To Australia, New Zealand, Canada, the USA, UK, Holland, Spain, Portugal and many others. The fact is, there are a lot of people currently going, in the process of applying, or thinking about it emigrating in the near future. You’ve heard at length about how we’re leaving just as soon as we can get our sticky paws on the right job and visa.
A few years ago I worked in travel (initally in retail then corporate), and while I was in retail travel was surprised by the number of people I had in front of me EVERY SINGLE DAY who were leaving. I think the number of people has probably tripled in the last six months. Something to do with living in a country where they can’t even produce enough electricity (after having been warned we’d reach a critical shortage at this juncture), something to do with the crime rate (yawn, talked about that *so* much), something to do with wanting to raise your children in a safer, cleaner environment.
A year ago, when hubby and I told our friends we were investigating leaving, we were the only couple out of about 7 couples who were thinking about it. To date, one couple has already left for the UK, and two more have approached us asking us how to go about it, and where we’re doing all our information research etc.
The other day, one of the Australian recruiters we have job hunting for us over there, gave us a web url to a forum, used by countless other South Africans in exchanging information and stories and their own emigration journey.
I am absolutely addicted.
I am frequently in (happy) tears as I read about other families, their posts entitled, “We’re finally Here!” or “Two weeks since we arrived in Melbourne” or “6 months in Brisbane and still loving it.” even, “I will never go back, what the hell took me so long!?”.
People who could be me.
People with one toddler, one baby.
People who like me, want something better for their families.
I must refresh that damn website more than I refreshed facebook in the beginning, hungry for more happy stories, more encouragement, more, well just more.
It’s keeping me going when I wake up in the middle of the night from a noise and I’m terrified that it might just be finally our turn to be attacked in our own homes.
It’s keeping me strong when I rush to my car with the kids in tow, repeatedly glancing over my shoulder for potential muggers (or worse), cursing as I struggle to get both Skippy strapped into his booster, and the Flippers’ car seat securely restrained, and then myself into the car, it started and then tearing away into the traffic.
It’s keeping me calm when I get to my own garage door and finally after closing it behind us, and having checked the house for burglars I can finally sit down, and breathe a deep breath, and thank god, that today was not our turn, and that maybe just maybe we can get out of here, without it ever happening to us.
It is my future.
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That job interview that hubby had, is still in the pipeline…another even better opportunity arose yesterday, that may mean we are out of here sooner than I thought. Like as in, December. Although at this stage it’s impossible to tell.
Anyway, it’s kickstarted me searching for all the information we’re going to need in the next few months, freight costs, excess baggage, flights, storage, banking, health insurance, and of course quarantine – for the dogs. My head is spinning.
It’s that last point that’s got my stomach in knots. While I’m absolutely determined to take our dogs with us, because I just can’t bear the thought of not knowing what will happen to them when we leave, and I know that as youngsters (they’re 2 and 3 years old) 6 months of quarantine will just about fly by for them. That’s not the issue here at all. The issue that has me sick to my stomach, is that the costs of it have skyrocketed.
To the point where we may not be able to afford it.
Come on universe. I need a miracle.
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We been having it!
Well, okay, I realise that my last post was quite heavy. It’s just a reflection on my moods, which are so up and down at the moment. So here are some funny/positive/poignant things about Africa, or at least South Africa, that I’ve noticed in the 32 odd years that I’ve lived here.
In Africa…road markings are irrelevant. You know those white dotted things in the middle of the road? Yeah, totally unnecessary, because large segments of the population completely ignore them. This is probably also in part due to the fact that large segments of the population don’t believe in having drivers licenses either.
If you’re a taxi driver in Africa, you never NEVER EVER use your turning signals (we call them ‘indicators’ here), why? To lull the people (who do have drivers licenses) driving behind you into false sense of security that you’ll actually be going straight, and not veering dangerously across 3 lanes in order to pick up the lone passenger on the wrong side of the road, going the other way. Oh yes, and when in doubt just use your hazard lights, that will do. We’re all mind readers here. Oh yes, and be sure to overload your taxi by at least double the number of allowed passengers, the more the merrier.
In Africa, large segments of the population do not believe in fences. Kind of like elephants* You will rarely see a long fence line in Africa, that doesn’t have holes in it at various random points along the way. Why walk around a fence, when you can simply cut a hole, trespass on someone’s private land, and take a short cut…I mean why?
In Africa, beaurocracy and red tape can almost always be sorted out with a bottle of whiskey, and a carton of cigarettes. Or a couple of chicken, or cows, depending on your location. People who do not understand this, do not get very far here. Or at least live for months waiting for essential services to be installed like electricity and telephone lines.
In Africa, electricity has become sporadic, and better yet, telephone wires are often stolen for the copper wire they contain. Somebody somewhere is making a fortune out of making copper pots, and pans, or something. Pffft.
In Africa (although I suspect this may happen elsewhere) when looking at traffic lights, green, means slow down and be vigilant for traffic jumping the red lights going the other way (probably taxies), proceed with caution, orange (or amber) means floor it and just close your eyes if it goes red just before you hit the intersection, and red means stop (means floor it if you’re a taxi), or if you’re a lone woman at night, it means slow down, swivel your head 360 degrees scoping for hijackers and then proceed if there is no one else at the intersection. Do not by any means sit there and wait for the light to go green.
In Africa we have drive thru shopping! Although not as plush and convenient as this sounds, it simply means that you will be faced with any number of items for sale, at any given traffic intersection, with very insistent sales people trying to convince you to buy their knockoff Springbok memorabilia/plastic coathangers/bulk plastic garbage bags/inflatable toys/beaded flower sculptures/wooden animal sculptures/even furniture like bedside tables and chests of drawers.
So you see it’s not all doom and gloom.
In the words of my favourite TV ad at the moment: ” WE BEEEEN HAVING IT! ”
We be having it!
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