The interview

I went for a job interview yesterday, and was reminded of the thousands of people across the world who experience the pre-interview anxiety symptoms.  Mine were strangely absent, but that is just because the job I'm applying for is at my youngest child's school and I know the people on the panel fairly well by now.

Imhoff Waldorf primary school has been going for fifteen years now and this year we launched our first high school grade, with the intention of adding one grade a year.  I'm applying for the part-time position of Afrikaans and History teacher, which means that I won't feel overburdened or stressed by the amount work, and will be able to enjoy it, which is the main thing I want from a job, apart from a little income, that is.  The school is only five minutes from home. So now it is just a matter of waiting....

Reducing the dress size

Is there a woman alive who never had reason to be concerned about her shape or size?  It's amazing how much is written about this dilemma, how many solutions offered, how much money spent on toning and dieting and garments that are slimming.  There is virtually not a magazine on the shelves which omits some comment on this topic, and cyberspace seems crammed with advice from fellow human beings or blow by blow accounts of their struggles on personal blog sites. 

Having spent my teenage years happily training on the athletics field, I managed to make it well into my twenties before even vaguely aware of unwanted bulges.  Even after Matthew's birth, my body slimmed down quickly as he demanded to be fed every couple of hours.  When three more children followed, the combined effect of frustration and lack of opportunity for physical recreation started showing in my body.  Now that I am approaching 60, I have decided to shed my unwanted kilograms, come hell or high water.  Now, this winter, starting this month.  My strategy is a combination of my homoeopath's diet, a daily visit to the gym (Curves, which demands only half an hour of one's time and is near the supermarket where I seem to spend most of my life) and lots of good cheer in the form of every available friend willing to distract me from fattening food.

There will be weekly rewards - either a piece of new clothing or a film at Cavendish Noveau or a ballet at Artscape - to keep me on my toes.  I am giving myself six weeks to lose ten kilos. 

Midwinter

We've just crept over the midwinter mark of the 21st June, and what a spectacularly beautiful day it was - sunny, with clear skies and not a breath of wind.  The College of Teachers at our local Waldorf school had promptly changed the St John's Festival to the 21st when they saw the weather forecast, because all the rest of the week we had rain and storms.  The St John's Festival is usually held at the end of the school term, marking the darkest night and welcoming in the longer periods of sunlight from then onwards.  The teachers start the evening off with a short play (this time about the rabbit which stole the fire from the beavers).  All of us sat outside and it was magical.  Every class at school make their special lanterns in the preceding week, and now walk in a long procession with these, gathering eventually around the huge bonfire, which is lit ceremoniously by the Grade 7s.  We sing songs and drink soup with bread, which parents brought along.  It was such a wonderful event, as if we were specially chosen to glimpse a piece of paradise.  The combination of small children's faces lit with wonder as they concentrated on holding their pretty little lanterns, the starry skies of the southern hemisphere, and the sense of community from gathering around a crackling fire while sipping soup - all of this was really special.

Baking bread

Sarah and I are making bread.  We use stone ground flour from Eureka Mills, free from chemicals and preservatives, and it feels good when you knead it - alive, filled with goodness.  We are conscious of our thoughts and moods when kneading, banishing worries and negativity, willing happiness to flow through our hands into the dough.  The whole kitchen smells like a brewery and the dough sits quietly in its bowls, allowing the yeast to do its work, slowly puffing itself up until it bulges the covering cloth, declaring itself ready to be shaped into loaves in the tins.  Then the house fills with the smell of baking - reassuring, familiar.  We feel good, knowing that these loaves will feed many people.  We picture them closing their eyes and groaning with pleasure as they bite into the steaming slices of bread and thick melting butter, experiencing it with all their senses.  This is true bread!

This is usually a weekly activity, and we bake eight or sixteen loaves at a time.  We stand and admire the brown shapes when they are tipped from the tins, as if we see them for the first time.  We burst with pride as we rub a little butter onto the crusts to make them shiny.  Some loaves are sold to friends and people in the village, others kept for our family.  Sarah loves adding rosemary and cheese, sometimes even garlic, making a savoury loaf, but we have learned that many people are hesitant to try out unfamiliar flavours, so we make sure that we have traditional white and brown loaves as well.   I love doing this.

Autumn in Kommetjie

I hear that my friends have had lovely spring weather up in the north, but here in Kommetjie we have been experiencing autumn, the days are getting shorter and the temperature dropped by about 10 degrees to a chilly 18 or 19 degrees Celsius.  We've made fires on a few occasions already, and stocked the tins with ginger biscuits, because everyone seems to be feeling more peckish than usual.  I am wearing cardigans inside the house, because we don't have central heating in our homes here in South Africa.

The thing is that climate change has made our weather very unpredictable.  Here on the southern tip of Africa, we have a Mediterranean climate - dry summers with strong southeasterly winds and wet winters - but the southeaster has been blowing for the past two days, in autumn, when we are supposed to have still balmy days.  I have basil seeds that are sprouting in several pots, and a few sweetpeas will hopefully make it through the winter and grace us with their flowers in spring.

We are preparing for local elections on the 18th of this month here in South Africa.  Everyone aged 18 and over may vote.  This is a privilege that many people had been denied for several decades, but over the past 13 years the novelty of democracy seems to have worn off and many people don't vote.  The ruling African National Congress (ANC) had failed to deliver on promises of employment and education to the masses, but there is only one reasonably strong opposition party, the Democratic Alliance (DA), which appears to be mostly white and coloured.  The political clash is interesting because it pitches Jacob Zuma of the ANC against Helen Zille of the DA - black against white, male against female.  Several smaller parties are paticipating in these elections though, and they might weaken the opposition. The major issue is service delivery - many people in rural areas are still without tap water or adequate housing.

Tomatoes!

Bruce invited us to a tomato tasting ceremony at his home.  These were gorgeous, home grown tomatoes, grown from seeds which he ordered from America, different varieties, big, small, deep dark red ones and pinkish ones that looked almost artificial, knobbly ones and smooth round ones. 

Bruce is a perfectionist and the tasting ceremony was beautifully presented with attention to detail - bread and cheese locally made on Imhoff's Gift farm, the tomatoes labelled so that we could try out the different varieties.  There was something about their ripeness and roundness that made one want to savour every aspect of it.  The tomatoes go really well with cheese and spring onions and olive oil, but to experience each one's individual flavour and texture, it was best to taste it on its own.  The names were poetic - Plack Prince, Black Russian, Marglobe - and we feasted on the unusual shades and shapes.  All our senses were involved - it was one of those perfect evenings after a hot day, still, with only the sounds of waves breaking on the beach and people talking and laughing in comfortable togetherness.  The moon was hanging above the horizon before dipping into the Atlantic, a yellow sickle with the faint outlaine of the rest of the bubble visible.

Patrick enjoys his tomatoes fried with a little garlic and herbs in butter, eaten on toast, but Bruce reckons that the subtle flavours get lost when cooked.  I've been using our home grown tomatoes in stews and pasta dishes - they are delicious no matter how you prepare them, and not as acidic as the ones we buy at the shop.  Here are some pictures of our evening.

Heat wave

This has been our third day of temperatures over 30 degrees Celsius, and no southeaster to relieve this.  Despite the cold Atlantic water, hundreds of people went for dip throughout the day.  The plants are looking droopy by the end of the day, except for the indigenous milkwoods with their waxy leaves that retain moisture.  We have a Mediterranean climate, with winter rains, so it's dry here in Cape Town despite all the welcome rain in the rest of the country, where the dams are full.  The drought in Beafort West and George was also broken, to everyone's relief.  For a few weeks motorists from other towns were encouraged to take bottled water to Beaufort West when they drive through (it's situated on the N1 highway from Cape Town to Johannesburg).

There is test cricket on at Newlands between India and South Africa, and I feel so sorry for the poor guys who have to be out on the pitch for hours on end without any shade.  We did well though, and might be able to win the match.

Sunset from the block house

There is a derelict block house on Slangkop mountain, which was built by the British during the Second World War.  It offers a stunning view over the Atlantic, and makes a perfect setting for watching the sun set.  It really looks as if the sun just melts into the sea and one sits for a while, not quite believing that this means that the day is over.  That's where everyone is off to now - Patrick, Sarah and Gabriel, and his sisters Cara and Nuala and Tessa.  There is a little contour path from the road up to the block house, and I like to imagine the soldiers walking up and down, perhaps on their way to the hotel for a drink on their day off.  I wonder whether any of the older residents remember the soldiers in the village.  I'll ask Hester Louw next time I see her - she's 80 and grew up in Hout Bay (the fishing village across Chapman's Bay). 

I made pancakes for them to snack on up there, with some wine and juice, and remember when we went up there with the late Father Smeets, the Catholic priest who married us and who was the prior at the local monastery.  Wine and sunsets and memories...

The attic as it is now

The attic renovation project has really taken hold of me. It is a wonderful space and could be used for a range of purposes, but the idea of making it available as holiday accommodation for people to visit from all over the world so that they can get to experience our beautiful spot in Africa is definitely most appealing. People could choose whether to combine their stay with healing sessions, or good local food or sightseeing, at reasonable rates rather than the ridiculous fees asked by those in the hospitality industry. This is what the attic looks like from the outside at present, but I want these windows replaced by French doors that open up onto a wooden deck.

From the inside, it looks like this - it has been used for storing stuff, such as Timothy's motorbike, and for the cats to live in.

So you can see that lots could be done to improve matters - all I need is a bit of manpower and some capital.

New Year 2011

It's just irresistable - whenever it gets round to the 1st of January, I have this urge to plan and organise. It's like starting a new exercise book at school, all clean pages unblemished by the teachers' disapproving red ink, and you have that feeling of new beginnings.

We woke up to a gentle rain this morning and I dashed out to feed the hens before they could wake the neighbours with their loud demands. It's been dry this summer with warnings of fire threats, so rain was really welcome. The sky has cleared since, and it is now after lunch and the sky is deep blue and there is no wind. The picture is of Longbeach, looking towards the north, with a view of the back of Table Mountain (that flat bit of mountain sticking out).

My greatest desire this year is to renovate our attic space. It is about 11 by 3 metres, and has 3 windows and a toilet, and has been unused for years, but it could be made really beautiful, with a wooden deck and a bathroom and kitchen space, so that it forms a self contained flat. I haven't asked anyone for a cost estimate yet, but it will probably cost about $30 000 to transform this into a cosy apartment. Now I reckoned that if I could find 300 people who could each contribute $100 towards this project, in exchange for a week's stay in the attic once it's been renovated, it would be quite an interesting project. You'd be able to view the progress on the blog site and book your week in advance. That way we would meet new people and you would be able to see a bit of South Africa. Anyone interested?