My BEEG holiday

 

I have not blogged since October because I had to keep a big secret.  I knew that if I wrote anything, I would either have to lie (which you know I don’t do well) or I would of had to have said something… so, instead, I chose to keep quiet.

 

Now that it is all said and done, let me tell you what my BIG secret was.

 

The month of November saw me travel back to South Africa as a surprise for my dad’s 50th birthday.  It does not sound like much, but it took a lot to keep this from him!  For those of you who know my father, you know how quickly he notices something suspicious.  I had planned and paid for this trip in June and let my mother know in July.  I was petrified that she would let slip that I was going (as she is not very good at keeping exciting things a secret, particularly exciting things a secret from my father!) The only other people who knew I was going were my sister and Shaun.  Unfortunately, Shaun could not keep the secret and before long, let his family know I was coming.  This really upset me (all the planning for months and one sentence could now potentially destroy it).  Along with the surprise, I attempted to get the family to contribute to a scrapbook, which I would put together once in South Africa. 

 

The two weeks leading up to November were really really hard.  I was excited about seeing everyone (and surprising my father!) and could not wait to hop on the plane [My Dad had sent me an email asking what I had planned for November and December.  I said that I would be working until the 31st (I did not specify of which month) and that I would then be off until the 4th] As I run everything past my father first, it was SO hard not to tell him I was coming, not to ask him questions about my flight, about my changeover at CDG, Paris.

 

I finished work on the 30th.  I went home, collected my sister and then went into Birmingham to collect Shaun.  We went for dinner at a Tapas bar, which was awesome (the sangria was just so much yummier because I had the two people I loved most in the world there with me). We eventually ended up at home around 23h00.  I decided that I had better pack for my trip home.  02h00 arrived and we thought it best that we all get to bed before our 06h00 start on the 31st.  At 07h00, Shaun’s mother phoned.  It was 09h00 in South Africa.  I got excited.

 

At 09h00, Hilary arrived to take us to Birmingham airport.  By midday, I had barely made my flight (let me give you the picture of me with my hand luggage, my coat and scarf and my tickets, running.  Arms flailing.  Sweat pouring.  Heavy breathing.  Need I say more?)  As I got to the gate, the lady said: ‘Miss Tolmie, I presume?’ I sheepishly smiled and nodded (mostly because I could not talk due to the lack of breathe).  She turned to the phone, picked it up, said her name and followed this with a: ‘cancel that announcement’.  Oops.  I hurried to catch the plane.  Last to board (I always hate those people, don’t you?)

 

The flight was uneventful to CDG.  We landed a staggering half hour early. I wandered around the airport (well, I would use the term ‘paced’, as it was merely a long corridor with expensive shops on one side and the gates on the other).  I waited for my flight to Johannesburg for hours.  A few random strangers made conversation with me (I really don’t think I’m the kind of person who looks approachable… but, boy, when these people get started… ) when finally, the gates opened, I knew not only their life histories, why they are visiting/living in South Africa, what they like and dislike about the country, how old their children are but also intricate details such as financial status (trust me, the list is endless).  I tried to smile and nod for a lot of the stuff, but people (particularly people going on holiday) don’t seem to understand.  I finally made it to the front of the queue when the people who were talking asked me when I was coming back.  I said the end of the month.  They got so excited.  ‘When, when’, they said.  I said the 30th.  The wind out of their sails, they were returning the 29th.  The gentleman turned to his wife and said: ‘it’s such a pity, it would have been nice to fly back with her’… I smiled awkwardly.  We boarded the plane.  I was praying we would not be seated near each other.  I followed them halfway down the plane, knowing I was sat at the back.  They spotted their seats.  I felt relief.  They said they would see me in-flight.  I smiled and moved down the plane to my seat.

 

Next to me were a nice French couple who decided I looked approachable.  Ten hours, approachable.  I was NOT approachable.  I used closed questions and finally, when there was a gap, got out my headphones.  I like talking.  I just don’t like talking that much.

 

By the time the sun was coming up, we were over Zimbabwe.  

I was so excited.  We were going to be landing early (by an hour).

 

I finally got off the plane at 06h00.  I went to collect my baggage and found that it was missing.  I went to the Air France counter and the gentleman behind the desk phoned to find out where it was.  To cut a LONG story short, some old lady had taken mine instead of hers.  The gentleman said that he had her bag and that she had mine, but she argued the point, stating that her bag was in the boot of her car.  The gentleman described the suitcase to her, but she still did not believe him.  After about 30 minutes, he had managed to convince her that she did in fact have my suitcase.  About an hour later, I left customs with my suitcase (having been scolded by the lady who said that I should have had more distinguishable features on my suitcase…)

 

I decided that after all that hassle, I would go for a coffee, where I would wait for my mother.  I went to Mugg & Bean, where I was served (in slow motion) my rooibos tea and water.  As I watched the crowds and sipped my tea, I heard my name called by a man.  I thought I was hearing things, so ignored it.  I heard my name again.  I looked around.  Approaching me was none other than Morris.  Now, Morris was a manager at a Mugg & Bean in my home town.  I had a long conversation with him, which was interrupted by the sighting of a rather familiar looking individual.

my mommy!!!!

 

We spotted each other.  Smiles stopped from wrapping around our heads by our ears.  My mother rushed toward me.  I stood up.  My mum got closer, it was nearly time for a hug, for my hug. There was only one thing in the way.  A man on crutches.  We tried to dodge him.  The dramatic reunion music paused as the man moved one crutch after the other. I felt a sudden urge to push him.  I had to wait.  I had waited nearly two years.  FINALLY, he moved out of the way.  Mum and I rushed into each other’s arms in slow motion, as the dramatic music climaxed.  I paid the bill and we went for coffee (which turned into lunch) at East Rand Mall.

 

Eventually, we headed home to surprise my dad.  We pulled into the driveway.  My mum phoned my dad to come and let her in.  He put his head over the gate to see that everything was safe and that was when our eyes met.  I smiled and said, ‘hello daddy’.  He looked amazed and asked me what I was doing there… This holiday was going to be fantastic!

 

I planned to let everyone know I was there in my second week, so that I could sleep in, catch up with my folks, and just exist as I did.  Unfortunately, all the best made plans…

 

Not even in the country for three full days, my South African phone beeped.  Who knew I was here and how did they get this number?  It turned out that Sherelyn had let it slip at last.  My secret was out.  That Thursday onwards, I was fully booked until the night before I left for home (yes, you read correctly, home.  I have a home in each hemisphere – which makes catching a plane and leaving home for home a lot easier than leaving home for the unknown). 

 

I did not manage to see everyone, much to my chagrin.  I did manage to spend a lot of time with my mum (as my dad was working most of the time).  I absolutely loved being there and recapturing my relationship with my mother. 

 

By the time my holiday had come to an end, I had come to the following conclusions:

• Africa sucks
• People are really REALLY highly strung and stressed
• It is way more dangerous than before I left two years ago
• There are more people running across roads
• I hate the weather (both the summer and winter I experienced in the month of November).
• There are more reckless drivers
• I definitely made the right decision to emigrate to England
• Whilst there are aesthetic changes to the country, it remains essentially the same (and those changes will not be maintained)
• Nothing changes
• Wimpy coffee is not as good as I remember (perhaps it was the company that made it good in the first place) – nor is their mustard (sadly).
• Banks rip you off
• Eskom needs some stiff competition
• I don’t like the South African bugs!!

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and on a positive note:

• I had not realised just how much I had missed my friends
• I need to see my mum and dad far more regularly
• How much I LOVE Gerti’s chicken Mayonnaise Tremazzini and her pancakes!
• How much I missed going out when I felt like it
• How much I really LOVE having tea with friends and family

 

One month went by before I knew it.  I had completed my list of things I wanted to do in South Africa, people I wanted to see and food I wanted to eat.  I was satisfied and ready to go home.

 

I had landed in South Africa, with 19.9kg of luggage (of which, two pairs of trousers, six shirts, seven pairs of undies and a pair of shoes were mine.  The rest were presents!) and left with 23kg (of which, almost everything was mine and Sherelyn’s clothing!) I went through the x-ray machines without removing shoes, coats, belts (or even my liquid stuff from my luggage).  I sauntered through passport control (ok, mum, then I had to saunter back to give you the mobile back :0) and then saunter through AGAIN).  I boarded the plane to come home to the UK after a good hour had passed (and I had watched several late passengers for another flight).  I found my seat and got comfortable.  Next to me was an elderly gentleman (who fell asleep as the plane started moving and woke only for food.  At one point, I thought he had died, as he fell forward and hit his head against the seat in front of him and then fell to the side without stirring…).  As we were taxiing, an announcement rang out: *ding* ‘in accordance with governmental policy, we shall now spray the plane with insecticide’. *ding*

 

Only in Africa…

Two more weeks fly by...

Where on earth does the time go?

I can recall sitting down this time last year, typing blogs about my
first visit to my favourite client, about how happy I was being here.
I complained about everyone being in South Africa (most particularly,
Shaun) and me being alone.

Shortly after that, I was reminded of how quickly things can change.
The comfy rug I had established was swiftly pulled out from under me,
when my client went into hospital on the brink of death, and I was
launched back into the whirlpool of clients who I detested.
Thankfully, my client recovered. One year later, I am back in their
home with some marked improvements. Shaun now lives 100 miles away
from me, Sherelyn lives with me in our flat and I am in a much happier
place. Things are going well.

In the last two weeks, I have had several meetings with
physiotherapists, occupational therapist, doctors, distict nurses and
the like. My fun was briefly interrupted by a rather more pleasant
visit from Shaun on the weekend (who spent Friday night and Saturday
night with me). Sunday saw him disappear home and me feeling quite
alone and rather sad (everyone say aaaah). This week, however, was one
I would rather forget. I had a series of incompetent carers, a
migraine, tight muscles, hardly any sleep, several headaches and one
blocked catheter and more meetings.

Despite all that 'fun' <she says with a grimace>, I am still loving
being here (I suppose that is why I'm booked to with this client until
they end of the year!) I am still improving my skills on a daily basis
and am due to be assessed throughout November and December.

Speaking of the end of the year, do you have any suggestions as to
what Shaun, Sherelyn, Korneel and I should do for our British, South
African, Dutch New Year?

I just don't know how they do it...

This post skips nearly an entire month, and for that I sincerely
apologise. I'm sure you are aware that this last month has been
absolutely hectic (what with Shaun arriving, me working and all the
other stuff in between). Whilst I realise that many of you are rather
keen to know what has happened this last month, I have just not had
the time to sit down and type it all out. Actually, that's a lie. I
started typing it all, but found that each time I began to discuss
everything it became increasingly difficult to convey precisely what I
have felt having all the pieces suddenly fall into place and have the
chess game in play. What I will tell you is that I am much happier now.

As I type this, I am stretched out on a bed, pj's on, television
mumbling in the background. I am at work. I am waiting for Shaun to
text me his train journey information. I can't tell you how happy that
makes me feel (that I have such silly complaints about the man who now
lives 100 miles away from me).

I have had an argument with my laptop, which has meant that I now have
to post from my phone (which explains the rubbish layout of this
post!) Perhaps this will encourage me to post a little more
frequently... Perhaps I too will become a more frequent blogger...
Perhaps it will rain gumballs...