Six months

It has been six months since I wrote my previous post - six months too long. The last time that I wrote I had just become a United States citizen. This time Liz and I are celebrating closure on a property in Saint Johnsbury, Vermont. We took closure on June 3rd and moved into our new property on the following Saturday.  At the end of March, I had received d a telephone call from our landlord giving us sixty days to vacate the apartment. Not that we had done anything wrong. No! The landlord and his wife have gotten divorced and he required our apartment, it is the largest in the complex, for himself, his mother and granddaughter...

It has always been my belief that things happen for a reason, and so it was in this case. We searched the region for a suitable apartment to rent, but they were each either too small, too expensive or in an area of town inhabited by a lower class of people or drug addicts. So I suggested that we look at houses that were available for purchase, which we did. At the same time, we investigated the possibility of obtaining a mortgage. and were quite surprised when we became pre-approved.

So here we are on our 10th day. We have a garage full of boxes from the apartment and are slowly working our way through unpacking them, and a basement that still has a bunch of unpacked boxes left over from two years ago when we vacated 200 Sampson. When we viewed this house there was over a foot of snow on the ground, and so our offer was based only on what we were able to see.

The closure was not by any means cheap, and boy was the lead-up complicated and full of red tape. The purchase of our farm in the Eastern Cape was chicken feed by comparison. I just started counting the emails that I had received regarding the purchase and stopped counting when I got up to 110. Because of a couple of spine operations that I had more than 25 years ago, I am unable to lift anything weighing more than a few pounds, so Liz has been doing all of the heavy liftings. I do what I can with a trolly while she is at work.

Today was a first for me with our ride on lawnmower, which we picked up second-hand after closing. I had never driven a ride-on before so it was all new to me, but I did manage to cut a patch of  2,000 square feet in our back yard this afternoon before the first rain shower. I still need a lot of practice though. I turned 79 last month so I have every reason to be proud of myself. Fortunately, we have a very friendly neighbor who mows our front yard whenever he does his own. 

I took my Jeep Liberty in for a service eleven days ago and still have to get it back - there was a problem with the gear selector that I told them about, and as a result, it needs a new valve cover fitted at a cost of a little under $2,000 - it never rains but it pours.. 

It is a couple of days now since I started this post. I have been busy moving and emptying boxes. Yesterday I got our hifi (if you can call it that) and treated myself to opera highlights for much of the day. Today has been a lazy day. My back has been playing up so I have been taking it easy for a change, Liz has the morning off tomorrow (Saturday) so I'm looking forward to passing the whole weekend with her for a change. 

Racism in 2018

Since I relocated to the United States a little more than three years ago I have been able to look with fresh eyes on Racism, particularly where it is related to politics. Few people will admit that they are a racist because of the stigma attached to the word. I am pretty sure that in this country I would never call myself a racist, although there are clearly a great number of them about. On hearing the word my mind immediately associates it with the South, where much of the population is either, in their minds, still fighting the Civil War, with the NRA, and with Trump and many of his followers. I do not yet have the vote, but have my papers filled out for citizenship (just have to find the $640 it costs to apply). When I do get the vote I will never be joining the ranks of the evangelists and the pro-lifers of the Right. It is very rare to see a person of color up here near the Canadian border - I venture to say that I have seen more black bears.

In South Africa, it was a lot different - but there, racism was also mostly related to politics. The ANC has adopted a reverse apartheid frame of mind. They are vehemently anti-white and in their own way racist. Living there as a white person it was inevitable that one countered with the opposite. Although at my farm in the rural Eastern Cape I developed a rapport with several of the locals, especially with Julia, who ran the local shebeen, and with Headman, the local preacher who doubled as a gardener and odd-job man. I would probably have admitted to racism while living in that country, though not to those people of color with whom I had a rapport, but with those hard-line politicians like Winnie Mandela and Zuma - and especially Robert Mugabe. How I cheered when I heard that he had finally been ousted.

According to True North News Vermont, where I now live, has been classified as a racist state - although this is refuted by an article in the Manchester Journal. I'm not sure that many people of color would want to come to live in a state where the winters have so much snow and last for a good six months. The coldest night I recorded last year was -35˚ C (-31˚ F) and for much of the time, we were colder than Alaska.

Making Life an Adventure

I recall that, as a small child, I was given tours around his iron and steel works by my maternal grandfather. He was responsible for the building of the world's very first 12,000 lb high explosive bomb called the blockbuster, and was later decorated by King George VI for his efforts. Grandpa Brooks kept a scrap book of early aviation feats during the first World War and later paid for my education at Bromsgrove School.

The 12,000 lb blockbuster built by my grandfather

My first job after leaving school was in a bank - a mundane job that I soon became bored with. I moved on to Imperial Metal Industries at their Summerfield Research Station where, on being shown around on my first day, my boss threw me a vial containing a colorless liquid. "Here, catch!" he called. I did. "What is it?" I asked him. "Oh, nitroglycerine." was the reply. I later found out that the liquid was indeed nitroglycerine, but that it was stabilized with NDPA (nitro diphenylamine). I worked in a laboratory preparing insulation materials and nozzles for solid fuel rocket motors. I believe that a number of military missiles were also manufactured there.

Outside of work I spent much of my time helping out at my dad's hotel - mostly serving behind one of the five bars. I was a member of a group of friends (the crowd) who used to frequently meet at country pubs to consume draught bitter. I also spent time either hitch hiking in France and Germany, or on a couple of occasions touring in a hired vehicle. But I was still not content, and so after much consideration, I applied to join the Fleet Air Arm of the Royal Navy.

HMS Eagle at speed

My years in the Navy were full of adventure and thrills. I got to fly at 200 feet and below over the Omani desert, over the Malaysian jungle and the Scottish Highlands and, most of all over the sea. The flying was not without its moments. I recall flying over the sea low level when "ba-ba-ba-ba", four live thousand pound bombs fell from the aircraft before time and a quick thinking pilot pulled much g to become vertical and avoid any possible blast. I recall being involved in a mid-air collision between two Hawker Hunter jet fighters as well as a controlled crash landing of a third after engine failure at 24,000 feet.

The Hawker Hunter in which I crashed - and survived

On leaving the Navy in 1972, I decided to further my adventures by emigrating to Rhodesia. By the time I arrived there I had already visited some 24 countries - now it is up to 37! I will never regret my decision to move to Africa, although in hindsight I may have fared better on a different continent.
During my time in southern Africa, I got to add a few more countries to my tally and even managed a few free trips to Europe in the back of a sanctions-breaking DC8 full of Rhodesian beef. I became involved in repertory theatre, and spent many hours treading the boards. It was during this time that I had numerous trysts with some very beautiful ladies, got married and fathered a beautiful daughter. I visited numerous burned out farmsteads with an armored police escort, saw a few dead terrorists, but after the Mugabe take over I left the country and went back to the UK.

A burned out Rhodesian farmhouse

I had been appointed Senior Air Traffic Controller at Biggin Hill, Britain's busiest general aviation airfield. However government red-tape refused to recognise my Rhodesian ATC license, and so after six months - back to Africa and the Johannesburg's Jan Smuts International Airport. A spell there and at Abu Dhabi before I decided to quit ATC. Anyway I have to confess that I was getting a little long in the tooth for active controlling. I developed a keen interest in the then infant Internet, and secured a position at a large private school running their computer networks and administration computers. It was here that I got to meet Nelson Mandela. At about this time I met my second wife, Liz from North Carolina, on the Internet, and soon after she arrived in South Africa to visit me my then wife handed me divorce papers. Divorce had been on the cards for a long time and we had been separated for several years.

Martindale Farm

Liz and I got married, I retired and we purchased a small farm in Martindale, close to Grahamstown in the Eastern Cape. It was there that I started writing, and when I last counted I had well over 6,000 articles published on the Internet. This was also when I started writing my memoirs, The Graceful Retirement of an English Gentleman which is now well on the way to completion, and of which this narrative could, I suppose, be called a precis.

Myself and Liz on the Dinner Train

Liz returned to America in 2012 when her passport was about to expire - we didn't want to risk getting a new one in South Africa. I stayed behind to sell the farm and eventually followed her 2 years later. We have now been married for 12 years without a single fight or argument. I am now well aware that I have entered the winter period of my life. I have certainly made it an adventure - one that is ongoing and hopefully will go on for a few more years.

Sold the Farm - really did this time

Unlike my post of 11/27/2011, which was written immediately before the South African banks let us down on the first of several occasions, we really have sold the farm this time. Papers are signed and the money's in the bank - not nearly as much as we would have liked, but enough to get significantly more personal possessions across the Pond. Liz will be reunited not just with myself, but with her collection of shoes, clothes, beads and beading, lighthouses and witches. I've been following the New Hampshire weather during their winter - I don't think I've seen the temperature rise above freezing for at least 2 months. I guess that if I miss Africa at all, which is unlikely, it will be at this time of the year. Still - I did spend 8 years living (off and on when not at sea) in the far North of Scotland, so I have been used to those conditions in the past, albeit many years ago. I guess I'll get used to it - I'll have to, won't I?

NH wild turkeys taken 30 minutes ago

What will I not miss about Africa in general, and South Africa in particular? Well, I never wanted to live in SA in the first place anyway, but was forced here by circumstances. Since democratization I have witnessed a country where reverse apartheid is blatantly being practiced - I'm not saying that BEE is a bad thing - far from it, but the way it has worked out in most cases has exposed corruption, nepotism and bad management at their worst. The poor in South Africa are still poor, whereas the well-off have lined their pockets and those of their cronies at the expense of the underprivileged. You only have to look around you at present. As many as 4 years ago the Mail & Guardian exposed the scandal behind the multi-million rand upgrades on Jacob Zuma's Nkandla home - upgrades carried out at the taxpayers' expense (for those who have never heard of him, Zuma is South Africa's multi-wife president). Today, 4 years later, the scandal lives on. 

I will miss none of the above. What I will miss is the bush and the wildlife. The fragrance after that first rain shower after a period of drought. The ability to take a drive of less than an hour and be among a 30-strong herd of elephant, the bush buck that live on my farm, the monkeys that scatter when I drive to Bathurst, the sound of the jackals as they hunt at night, the call of the frogs from our small dam after the year's first rains, and the call of the fiery-necked nightjar - these I will never forget.

Yesterday I took my monthly drive into Grahamstown. The main street showed up mismanagement at its worst. Imagine taking a trash bin - well, probably taking dozens of trash bins - and emptying them along the sidewalk and gutters. The amount of trash just lying there was appalling. The thing is, the ANC have individuals all over the country in local government, mayors and councilors, who have no idea how to run a craft booth let alone a municipality. And they are all riding around in new Mercedes and BMWs. I'm not jealous - just sorry for the many individuals who cannot escape from the situation. Which makes me very glad of the decision I made when I first arrived in Africa - never to give up my British passport.

There is so much to get done during the next 58 or so days. Police Clearance Certificate, hand in Beretta, international driving permit, stop Eskom, stop Telkom, stop DStv, stop Post Box, change of address with various agencies, sell furniture, stop car insurance ... the list goes on. My clients will find my new telephone number on my main website, and I will still be available for work from South Africa. Just remember though, that if you call me the difference is 6 hours in SA winter and 7 in summer.

The Silly Season again

It's the Silly Season again. For six weeks during the school holidays Port Alfred will try to emanate Myrtle Beach. Of course the small coastal town in South Africa's Eastern Cape will never, never be anything to rival South Carolina's Grand Strand, but in terms of population per square mile it must surely do so. This is the time of year, from early December to mid January, when the town is full of vehicles and their passengers from all places north. They have traveled here from Gauteng, the Free State and Natal and even from such far away places as Mpumalanga and Zimbabwe. My local Spar has filled its aisles with extra goodies to cope with the increased demand from out-of-towners. In a few days' time you will not be able to find dog food or dish washing powder on its shelves - not until they start delivering goods again in early January. It's the same every year, but most locals such as me have taken precautions against the dearth of goods that always occurs about now by stocking up beforehand.

This was to be my last Christmas in Africa - soon I will be sailing my boat to colder climes, but at least will eventually be reunited with my family. Speaking of which - to us old-timers seeing out the autumn of our years, the Internet has brought families much closer together. Yesterday, on separate occasions, I got to video-chat with Liz, my wife, with my daughter Julie and her three kids Grace, Owen and Luke, all in Pennsylvania,, and with my sister Suzane along with her three kids Nick, Anna and Lisa and her numerous grandchildren in the UK, something that could never have happened 40 years ago when I first came out to southern Africa. The only problem is that the Internet speed here on the farm is so appallingly slow. I am going to be so spoiled by the download speeds I experience in other countries in the near future.

We all make mistakes - I know that I have made many, but many of our mistakes eventually turn out to have been for the best. For example I sometimes wonder whether it was a mistake buying this farm, but where else in the world can you find such a small corner of paradise, where else can you sit outside after breakfast and have two lesser striped swallows chatting to each other and to their newly fledged offspring perched nonchalantly less than two meters away. This year a sunbird built a nest on the wire perch that the swallows use - not sure which species as the bird that made and now occupies it (see above) is a very dull color and obviously a female. The farm abounds with birds and in clement weather is a continual orchestral interlude during the daytime. At this time of year, when there is water in the farm's two dams, the orchestra's players change at nightfall, the birds being replaced by frogs that continually call to each other during the starlit hours.

Talking of starlit hours - I have lived in many homes and traveled the world over, from Hong Kong to Wellington, through Europe and the Mediterranean and as far west as the Great North Woods. Only here, in Martindale, have I regularly been able to see this corner of our galaxy in such detail. This small community is a paradise for star gazing, even through the naked eye. By the time that I take my leave I will have spent eight happy years here, but just cannot spend any more time trying to sell the place. When deciding between family and property, family has to be the winner. If I have to start from scratch all over again, so be it. At least I have the satisfaction of knowing that I have a small but sufficient passive income to fall back on during my pending long journey.

A few weeks ago I was thinking that this would be a fairly lonely Christmas, my being all by myself in Martindale. Actually, being a free thinker, I don't really celebrate Christmas - rather Yule. But that's another story. However that expected solitude was not to be. My good friend Alberto from Bologna in Italy, together with his protegé Jimmy, has been my house guest all week. It has been refreshing to have someone to talk with, and we have touched a wide variety of subjects. I know that I talk to Katie (my white shepherd) much of the time - but understandably that is a rather one-sided conversation, despite her being extremely intelligent and having a very sensitive nose. Katie will not be accompanying me on my pending voyage. My good friend and neighbor Wendell has offered to give her a good home - and I know he will. I just have to find a home now for my two inseparable cats. Any offers of a home to two neutered male cats that have been together for 8 years?

Ramblings and Rumblings

It is a balmy afternoon in mid November in the redundant South African province of the Eastern Cape. The distant rumblings of thunderheads can be heard in the far North. They gradually become louder as the storm moves towards the farm, away from the Drakensberg and towards the sea. As it does so the wind starts to pick up ahead of the approaching roll cloud, and the first drops of rain can be heard hitting the tin roof of the room that serves as my office.

Just a few days ago I completed exactly forty years in southern Africa, years that have shaped much of my life. The approaching storm is typical of the summer storms that frequent the region. The rain becomes harder, louder. Soon it will be too loud to stay down in this end of the house and I will soon be forced to move to the lounge, to work from an armchair. This room I am in now is known as the lighthouse room, named so by Liz on account of the drapes and artifacts that depict so many of those phallic edifices. The rain is steadier now, and is accompanied by that fragrance that is so often found when the first of the rains meet the oh-so-dry ground.  

I move to the lounge and, by Murphy’s Law, the storm peters out, as so often happens with storms that come from that direction. Our two summer residents returned from their European home a few weeks ago – coincident with the equinox. This is their fourth visit, and is usually accompanied by a complete makeover of last year’s home. This year, as yet anyway, they seem to have decided not to rebuild. This pair of Lesser Striped Swallows chat to each other from a perch I made for them just outside out front door. On previous years they have had to rebuild their home, but this year they just seem to be spring cleaning the old one and using the two tunnels that serve as both entrance and exit. I am expecting that the female will soon be sitting on eggs – last year there were two fledglings. The male will spend most of his day catching insects and bringing them home.

The summer temperatures have kicked in – the other day it hit 95 in the shade, and at nearly 10.00 p.m. it is still in the high 70’s. We have had 170 ml of rain in the last few weeks – that’s 4 inches - much needed here in the Eastern Cape, where there has been a winter drought lasting several months. As a result, what was a parched and sun-burned lawn has suddenly burst into life, the kikuyu grass six inches high in places and a brilliant dark green. My gardener is a local man called Headman – a retired railway worker I believe. He rents a house from the railways at the old Martindale station and tells me he pays just R10 a month. He recently bought himself a Isuzu bakkie or truck and has been using it as an illegal taxi. I get the impression that this new role has made him too important to cut grass for the likes of me. However I understand that his truck is undergoing repairs in Port Elizabeth, so maybe I can get him to come and cut the lawn next week.

I have decided to start selling off some of the larger items of furniture that remain in the house – after all there is no way they are going overseas once it is sold. I have dropped the asking price on the house as far as I can. Now that Liz has a job and a car, there is no longer anything to keep me in this country. Much of the house is already boxed up and awaiting the freight company. I can’t wait for the day when I can say “I had a farm in Africa, at the foot of the Kapriviersberge hills”. Whoever buys will be getting the bargain of the Century.

RETR command failed - 4 billion emails in inbox

I always seem to get the interesting ones - sometimes I put this down to the abysmal Internet speed provided by my ISP, but this time I cannot. I use Thunderbird as my email client, and it has served me well over the years. However a few days back I started getting this message:

After carrying out some research through Google it became apparent that the problem was not a Thunderbird one, but the mail server, in my case hosted through GoDaddy. Several individuals had reported through various forums that they had solved the problem by logging into the mail server and clearing out junk files. In my case I found about 400 files in my inbox but the other boxes were empty. Anyway, I deleted all but one message, which would not delete.  I tried moving the message to the trash box - it would not move. Naturally I assumed this file to be the cause of the problem - not so.

On logging out of the server I sent a test file to myself and tried to download it - to no avail, and when I tried to log back into the mail server again I got this message:

Clearly this was going to be a case of summoning the technicians at GoDaddy, and I had Liz (now in New Hampshire while I am stuck back here in South Africa trying to sell the farm) contact the GoDaddy team to attempt to resolve the problem - and they did. They had Liz log into the mail server from the back end, and here's what she found in my inbox:

Yes, you saw it right - more than 4 billion files in my inbox !  4,294,967,295 files to be precise! Well to cut a long story short, they deleted the files - but I guess down in Phoenix they're still talking about how they got in there in the first place. My immediate thought was in the direction of a virus or similar. I would appreciate comments in this regard.

Anyway, the problem has now been solved and I am once more able to download my email messages and to log on to the mail server if needs be.

Please contact me for Internet content of any kind - you will not find better!

New New Hampshire website

It has been a while since I last posted here, mostly because I have been kept busy writing for clients here in South Africa and in Myrtle Beach, SC.

Most of my regular readers will know of my plans to relocate to North Carolina, and of how my wife Liz flew back to the States more than a year ago while I stayed behind in the Eastern Cape to finalize the sale of our smallholding. After spending a year staying with her daughter, circumstances forced Liz to move on from Louisiana, supposedly to NC. However, things have changed. I was not happy about Liz arriving in NC under the conditions that were forced upon her, and so I asked my daughter Julie in New England if she wouldn't mind Liz staying with her for a while, and this is why Liz is now firmly ensconced in the Granite State with Julie and my three grandchildren.

To cut a long story short, Liz is so happy in her new home that we have decided that it is to be our final relocation destination, and I can't wait to get there. These new circumstances have led me to creating a new website, which, at the time of writing is just partly finished, although coming along in leaps and bounds. The design is all there, and it is now just a matter of populating it with good content and then marketing it. We have based the design on our info-nc and info-sc websites, which have proved so popular in the past, and the pic for the header was taken by Liz a week or so ago.

There seems to be no shortage of writing work on the other side of The Pond, unlike here in darkest Africa. Many of the domains ending with .co.za have been populated with content that leaves much to be desired, clearly having been written by someone not fluent in the English language, and of its subtle nuances and many idioms. This is just another sign of the times in South Africa, and is something that goes hand in hand with the neo-apartheid policies of the present government. The new upper class in South Africa is the reason for many of the setbacks experienced in the country. Much of the government and industry is corrupt, and the new leaders are filling their pockets at the expense of the poor. Why, only last week a local government official here in the Eastern Cape, after resigning from her position after only 5 months, was given a handshake of R2.5 million!  Only in Africa!

I will not miss this country one iota. I'm ready to leave - just need to sell the farm. Which brings me to one final point. A couple of days ago I received an email from some asinine idiot offering me R200,000 cash for the farm (I have just dropped the asking price to below R1 million). With the Rand crashing the way it is, I will consider any sensible offer, but I have only one reply to sheer stupidity - kma.

What was it?

I cannot stand being sick. I've just come through two days of feeling really down, and I have no idea what it was or why. I was first aware of whatever it was when driving in to Port Alfred on Tuesday. I am normally wide awake behind the wheel, but on Tuesday it felt as if I had been driving for eight hours or more, and I had to keep shaking my head to stay awake. By the time I had concluded my business and arrived back at the farm, I had all the symptoms of Hay Fever. Then yesterday the symptoms were much worse – streaming sinuses, loss of appetite and feeling very tired. In fact I was not even able to cook my usual evening meal, managing a fried egg sandwich, half of which I ended up giving to Katie, my White Shepherd. I brought everything forward by an hour last night, ending in an early turn-in. 

Today I am back to normal. My appetite is back, all the symptoms have departed, and I am bright and perky. I would love to know what it was that attacked my system. Is there such a thing as 48-hour 'flu?  Perhaps someone can tell me.

Recollections

I was driving from the farm into Port Alfred this morning, reminiscing, when I decided on the subject of this blog - recollections of some of the things I have achieved during my life, and of some of the mistakes I have made. I have reached that age where a person starts wondering how many more birthdays they are going to enjoy - if one can enjoy birthdays in this day and age. I am still told from time to time that I do not look my age, so maybe there's hope for me yet. So what can I brag about ? What can I tell my grandchildren? And what can I not  tell them?

I suppose that one achievement I can chalk up on the board would be my close to 300 each carrier catapult shots and deck landings. I spent 8 years flying off aircraft carriers, and during this time qualified as a 'top gun'. My flying career was not without incident, my having survived a mid-air collision between two Hawker Hunter jet fighters as well as a crash landing after an engine failure at 24,000 ft. The latter hit the headlines of the national press.

The one I walked away from

I had become very apprehensive with the complacency of the British people during my days as a naval aviator, and on their completion decided to 'emigrate' to Africa - to Rhodesia to be precise. The Fleet Air Arm and its carriers were being juggled about like  yo-yos by various politicians in those days. I had become a particular admirer of Enoch Powell, a Conservative politician whose predictions of Britain's future have proved so true. I also admired Ian Smith, the Rhodesian prime minister, whom I was to meet several times during my nine years in the country. It was in Rhodesia that I became heavily involved in the theater, serving on the Executive Committee of Salisbury Repertory Players and treading the boards in more than a dozen plays under the direction of their resident professional director.

The writer as Dronio in You must be Joking (Four plays for Coarse Actors)

After that joker Mugabe came into power and Rhodesia became Zimbabwe, I left the country with my new family for Britain, where I had been appointed Senior Air Traffic Controller at Biggin Hill Airport.  I slotted into the job very well, and was soon deputizing for the Airport Manager as well as running Air Traffic Control. Unfortunately the narrow minded politics of Britain's Civil Aviation Authority refused to recognize my Rhodesian ATC qualifications, in spite of my obvious experience, which is what brought me and my family to South Africa. I remained in ATC for a number of years before becoming involved in computers, and it was during this time that I was honored to have shaken hands with Nelson Mandela - I consider this, if not an achievement, at least something I can brag about.

In retrospect my first marriage was my first big mistake, although even from mistakes can come good. In this case in the shape of my daughter Julie and later my three grandchildren. They are very special to me and I just cannot wait to get to New Hampshire again to see them - and without doubt to spoil them. My first visit to sub-Saharan Africa had been to Mombasa whilst embarked on HMS Eagle. I had spent a week staying on a farm at Nyali Beach, the guest of Andy Pape and his two teenage daughters. This was to influence my original decision to move to Africa, and eventually to another achievement - to own a farm in Africa.

The main farmhouse and Katie

Martindale Farm is an 18 acre smallholding about 10 miles from Bathurst in South Africa's Eastern Cape. The village is home to South Africa's oldest pub, the Pig & Whistle. We bought the farm in 2005, and loved it and cherished it, but the time came to move on. I met Liz, my present wife, on the Internet, and we've been together for 15 years - 15 years without a single argument or fight.We are true soul mates. Liz has returned to America in 2012 and I followed her 2 years later. I am now able to coin the phrase "I had a farm in Africa at the foot of the Kaprivier Hills".

Today I am relocated in New England and the owner of several websites, and spend much of my time writing content for the Internet. My most successful personal sites are  info-nc and info-nh . My latest achievement is a website for a veterinary clinic in the Northeast Kingdom. I never thought of myself as a writer ten years ago, but since 2006 I have had more than 6,500 articles published on websites - this I do consider as an achievement. What's more the Internet has made it possible for me to continue writing wherever I am located.

African Drums

Another Saturday - the End of the World has come and gone, although here at the farm in South Africa's Eastern Cape it feels like it's just around the corner. Outside it's 104°F in the shade - that's 40°C, and inside the house (I don't have an air-conditioner)88.5°F or 31°C. On Wednesday I drove into Port Alfred and it was predictably full of Vaalies (for the uninitiated those are holiday makers from what used to be the Transvaal - Gauteng in today's new Apartheid era.). Most of the influx is from Gauteng (one can only tell by the vehicle registrations), although there is a smattering from the Free State, Natal - oops, sorry - KwaZulu-Natal - and the Western Cape. This is the Silly Season, and the time of year to avoid Port Alfred, especially when the temperature peaks to today's levels.

I write this post to the accompaniment of African tribal drums - no kidding! There are a handful of railway cottages occupied by farm workers a short distance away, and a funeral is in progress. Julia, who runs the local shabeen, is burying her young son, who died a week or so ago in a Grahamstown hospital - I am told of HIV, although that could have been pure speculation. I was given the news by Headman, a jack of all trades who does odd jobs for me from time to time. Apparently, when the railway was still running through Martindale, he was the local station master. He now rents the old station master's house from the railways for just R10 a month. Words from his own lips.

Christmas for me will be quiet. I am still awaiting a parcel from Liz - she says it cost her $60 to post so I'm looking forward to a few small goodies this year. She's now been gone for 7 months - thank Goodness for Skype. I have a little gizmo called MagicJack that comes with an USA telephone number and free calls to all other US numbers, but it stopped working on my Laptop so I'll have to try to install it on the old PII machine. At least we get to chat or live video just about every day - except when her work hours are non-conducive.

Blog Followers

What do I have to do to get more followers? I guess it would help if I were a little more active in this blog for a start. If any of my readers can leave a comment with a constructive idea I would be most obliged. I currently share on Twitter and Facebook - some ideas please!

Back to reality. Still stuck here at the farm. Things are moving out there though. I had a viewer come through a week ago, and another query from an East London estate agent specializing in farms on Monday. I'm being very positive about it, more than anything else because I miss the Love of my Life. Today I will repost some farm ads.

Liz has been back in Washington State for six months now - sent her a GPS unit for Christmas so she can find her way around. Liz was never that good at navigating, and when working for Chris & Terri in Woodmead would phone me at KDHS asking for me to email her directions to some address in Pretoria or Sandton or wherever. I don't miss the big city at all.

There's a steady drizzle falling at the farm today, in this idyllic corner of the Eastern Cape. My nearest neighbor is some 2 miles away and occasionally stops by with farm eggs , home cured bacon or, a couple of weeks ago, a honeycomb. Talking of honeycomb, a couple of years ago a bee-keeper who has a honey farm near Southwell stopped by and asked if he could place some empty hives on the roof of our workshop - of course we agreed and he left four. He collected them, each full of bees, a few months later. We were most surprised when, a few weeks after collecting them, he dropped off a container with 2½ kgs of honey - I still have about a kg left over. That's the way things work in the countryside!

The swallows have finished rebuilding their nest and are now lining the interior with small pieces of straw and feathers. When they've completed it they will raise a new nest of fledglings - last year there were 3  . By the way honey, sorry I didn't vm last evening but my landline was down. Seems to be working gain today though. I'll see you in my dreams.

Martindale Make and Mend

Today I decided to give myself the day off; after all, this government has its Women’s Day and its Youth Day and a number of other totally unnecessary local holidays, so I decided that today, here in Martindale, it would be My Day. Yes, today I awarded myself a Make and Mend. Now many of you will not be familiar with the term, so let me explain. It is a term that is used to this day in the Royal Navy to designate an ‘afternoon off’ – however in my case I decided to take the whole day off. The term goes back to the times of the old sailing ships when sailors would be given time off to ‘make and mend’ their uniforms. Since Liz has been back in the States for nearly three months, leaving me to stay behind and get the farm sold, I decided to carry out a little necessary maintenance. My “favorite” tracksuit trousers have been coming apart along some of the seams, so I have carried out the necessary work, having found Liz’s stash of needles and thread in the storage room.

Once my work was complete I decided, for a change, to sit outside in the sun. The temperature was up in the seventies, unusual for this time of year in the Eastern Cape. But here on the farm it is peaceful, and today you could see the sea from right where I am now sitting. The Coral trees (we have eight of them) are a mass of color, and I armed myself with a pair of binoculars and the Book of South African Birds to try to identify some of their visitors. Although you cannot see all of them, the air is filled with the constant sound of songbirds. Up in the Coral trees a pair of weavers were competing with each other for the sweetest blossoms, and for the first time I witnessed two  Black Sunbirds with their wonderful long curved beaks feasting on the sweet nectar found deep in the heart of the Coral blossoms.

A Fiscal Shrike had staked its claim in our Wild Plum near to the front gate, and from time to time would sweep down to pick up a bug it had spotted, sometimes landing just a few feet from away from me. Most of the birds I saw today were common local residents – species such as the Redwinged Starling, the Glossy Starling and the Drongo. I did get to see a few not-so-common visitors, notable of which were a Blackcollared Barbet and a trio of Trumpeter Hornbills, which had taken up positions in our huge Rubber Tree, and were taking it in turns to announce their presence.

I have been in Southern Africa for nigh on forty years now, but the time has come to move on, which is why the farm is up for sale. I shall miss the peace of Martindale and the friendliness of the local farmers. But while I am still here, waiting for that elusive offer, I will make the best of the peace and tranquility that this farm has to offer.

Musical Birds

I am prompted to write this following a strange happening yesterday. It is winter in the Eastern Cape, and it had been raining for much of the morning and the previous night, but in the afternoon the wind had dropped to a serene calm – not enough to stir the wind chimes on my porch. I was watching one of the few local satellite Olympics channels, when the wind chimes started ringing out their music – something these particular chimes had not done for many a day, since the sail and clapper had been missing for some time. I decided to investigate this weird occurrence and peered out through the window.

Some time ago I had made a perch for a pair of swallows nesting just a few feet away. It is just a length of stiff electricians wire put there to replace a string of Christmas lights that the swallows had become used to. There on the wire was perched a glossy yellow-eyed starling, a frequent visitor to our yard. The starling had decided to play with the shiny silver tubes of the chimes and with the strings from which they are suspended. I would be interested in hearin whether this was typical of the behavior of this species.

My Bonnie lies over the Ocean

Well, it finally happened. One more step in the Grand Plan of the Universe fell into place. My beloved Liz has arrived safely in America, and judging from a conversation I had with Dena, her daughter, yesterday afternoon, none too soon. But that’s another story, and one to be told by another writer.

I drove Liz to the Airport on Tuesday afternoon. We had just topped up with fuel in Colchester when her phone rang. It was British Airways asking whether she could make the check in by 2.30 p.m. rather than 5.00 p.m. as her flight had been delayed and there was no guarantee of her making her connection with Quatar Airways to Doha. Fortunately we had decided to leave Martindale early (at noon) so we were able to make it. She was fined R3,000 for overstaying the last date of her visa – if she doesn’t pay it while in the States she will not be allowed back into the country – what a difficult decision to make!

So, now I am alone for a while – hopefully not too long. It’s now all down to selling the farm, and I’m hoping that the people who came to view on 19^th will come through. Technically I’m not completely alone. I have Katie our White Shepherd, (you may remember her dad passed over in late January) and Bob and Jack, the two cats, to keep me company. We have someone who has offered to take the cats, and indeed Katie, but it is still our intention to send her over to the States just as soon as the farm is sold.

I keep on finding little notes hidden away throughout the house. Just little things like “I love you” and “I miss your touch” and, this is the one I like, “I love you more today than yesterday. I will love you even more tomorrow”. So far I’ve come across six of them. Thank you Liz, and I love you and miss you and can’t wait to talk to you on Magic Jack in a couple of hours’ time.

I received an sms from Michael jnr earlier today. He was coming to collect his Toyota Land Cruiser on Friday. He is still coming, but will probably arrive late Saturday evening with Andrew, one of his climbing friends. I’ll prepare his favourite dish, parsley chicken, anyway. That can always be heated up if they’re very late.

Love you Princess