Well, the Ballito Pro finished in the nick of time before that cold front arrived.
What a front it was, rattling the rooves and lashing the trees in the middle of Saturday night.
The whole fortnight before had so been balmy and calm you’d think we were in the South of France. Exquisite timing, Pro organisers. Take a bow, Collette!
It’s noticeable how neat and tidy Ballito is looking these days, leaving a good impression with all the visitors, thanks to the UIP and the street cleaners.
Sheffield Beach, where I live, doesn’t benefit from the same street cleaning contract but Colwyn Drive residents chip in every month for a lady to clean the beaches and tidy up the road verges.
All the plastic flotsam that washed up last week disappeared in a flash, thanks to her and community-minded residents.
Spare a thought for our cousins on the South Coast, who know what it’s like to have a severely dysfunctional local government.
In Southbroom, such a pretty village we visited recently, residents roll up their sleeves and patch potholes and paint road markings themselves.
And water comes through the taps but once a week, if they’re lucky. We do well by comparison.
Despite the cold front that spoiled Sunday, though, wasn’t it a pleasure to watch the Boks give the Aussies a hiding on Saturday!
They weren’t ever in the game, were they? The Wallabies have fallen a long way since the glory days of players like George Gregan, Stephen Larkham and Michael Lynagh. They would have a hard time taking on Georgia these days!
It has been nearly two years since I retired from my desk at the Courier to hand over the reins to the new generation.
Those who are already retired will know the story, so for those who are nearing retirement age let me warn you, it is no easy ride.
In the course of a career I reported to an office daily for 52 years, starting at the Witness in ‘Maritzburg, then on to the SA Press Association in Johannesburg, Umtata (yes, Um-ta-ta!) and Cape Town, then Jo’burg and London with the Rand Daily Mail, and of course 38 years here starting and running this business.
Point is, 52 years of getting up every morning and heading off to an office builds up a habit on a par with smoking and heroin.
I was so lucky to have a career that did not for a moment feel like a job.
Even though I loved every single minute of all those years of working, every now and then I’d stop and dream, “Wouldn’t it be nice to park off, go to the beach, bumble around in the workshop . . .” – you know, kick back, as the saying goes. You dream about the time being your own, far from the madding crowd.
Then the day arrives. And you wake up the next morning and ask “What now?” Because the drug says you ought to be dressing for work, in the car and off to the office.
Every article I ever read about retirement warned that you had to have a hobby, another interest lined up.
Every ex-smoker knows that is true: the best way to kick a habit is to replace it with another, hopefully a healthy one. Well, I do have hobbies in photography and woodworking, though to be honest I’ve been so exhausted after a long illness that most days it’s hard to drag myself down to the workshop.
Rose always said her marriage vow was “For better or for worse but not for lunch!”
Cheeky, though I envy her that she has settled into retirement quite happily, between church, golf and grandchildren.
But I’m not complaining, strength is slowly returning, and I promise myself (and my long-suffering wife) that I’ll be back to new in a jiffy.
I do reckon I can retain my sanity for as long as I can avoid watching daytime TV – you know, I’ll really be in trouble when Real Housewives of Durban becomes a must-see!
* * *
I bought a book online, “How To Deal With Life’s Disappointments.”
When I opened it, it was blank.
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