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.