In the balmy days of May, there’s a competition in our road to see who can make the most noise.
There are two families of Barbets, one Black Collared, the other Crested, that start their chorus early in the mornings.
The Collared with their monotonous “counting” and the Crested with the long purring continue right through the day.
Their favourite perch is in the huge Milkwood that fills a corner of our garden and overhangs Shad Lane, and when they move on their spot is quietly taken over by a very determined-looking Fiscal Shrike that spends much of the day peering into the lane, waiting for some unfortunate lizard to attempt a crossing.
Then there is the pair of Natal Francolin – Spurfowl, they’re called now – that wander between the local gardens, kicking up a racket with their raucous clacking.
Like the Hadedas, they aren’t much bothered by the dogs as a hop and a quick flight over the fence takes them clear of trouble.
I was about to say the monkeys haven’t been around as much as usual this year when I heard the thumping of a troop on the roof.
They used to be a daily pest, trying to get into the kitchen window to grab Rose’s tomatoes ripening on the windowsill.
Every now and then they succeeded, which caused quite a lot of unladylike cursing, but mostly we learned to keep the windows shut.
With all the rain we’ve had this year, perhaps the natural food sources are doing better, that’s why the monkeys aren’t foraging as much?
I wonder. I shall miss this garden when we move to our new home in Sheffield next month.
It’s a nice, restful oasis of green and tangled bush just a hop and a skip away from the beach.
But there will no doubt be something new to interest us when we get there, as Rose builds a new garden that will hopefully attract lots of birds and butterflies (She’s the gardener – I’m just the lounger).
Hasn’t the weather been just terrific?
On Wednesday afternoon the sea was so glassy I couldn’t resist dusting off the surf ski and heading out off Catfish for a leisurely paddle.
Unfortunately, that was followed by a fit of sneezing and a head cold that made my nose stream for 2 days.
It seems to have developed into regular ‘flu – no, not the dreaded C-word – but it made me very grumpy, though some might ask what’s new?
In days of Zondo and of wonder, when there is hardly anything left to be outraged about, I was astonished to read that the SA Post Office wants to stop courier companies from carrying parcels weighing less than 1kg.
What, we still have a post office?
I described in this column some years back what happened when I ordered a computer part from America.
Long story short, after much emailing to and fro the “lost” part was found in the post office just down the hill.
But get this – the American company was so embarrassed by the 6-week delay that they took it on themselves to refund me the freight charges!
I don’t remember when I last went into one.
When Debbie Botha ran the village post office it was a very efficient operation, and that was quite a while back.
Then stuff started going missing and, like the railways, people found other ways to get things done.
The courier companies blossomed and no amount of kicking and screaming is going to get people using the post office again.
Go ahead, strike, who cares?
If the government does decide to back the post office and only allow courier companies to carry parcels over 1kg, I suppose we’ll get used to adding a little weight to our envelopes.
Care for a brick, anyone?
