BRACE yourselves, ’tis the time to be merry, fa la la la la, la-la, la laaa. In fact time to eat, drink and be merry, and if you’re lucky escape the carnage on the roads so that come January, you can gird your loins (whatever that entails), put your shoulder once again to the wheel, nose to the grindstone and begin another fun filled year dodging hijackers, sundry criminals, traffic cops, the tax man, rising prices, queues at banks, Eskom, the Post Office, petrol, ebola, Malaysian airlines and potholes. And paying for Nkandla.
I’m lucky; I’m one of those people who have a holiday over the festive season, and it’s a luxury that I still appreciate. From 1969 when I started work until 1996 when I left Rebel bottlestore, I worked every Christmas and New Year, right up to the last legal trading hour. True, the hours we worked then were nothing like the hours that retailers work now – in 1969 shops used to close for an hour at lunch time.
We did too; I was working in Eshowe then and we used throw out all the customers, close the shop and go home for lunch. The only places open between 1:00 and 2:00pm were tearooms run by Greeks. Imagine shops doing that now.
My first year here at the Vryheid Herald, when we closed for two weeks at Christmas, it was an extraordinary feeling to be off when the rest of town was still frantically rushing around buying and selling. It was an uncanny feeling to go into town and not have to hurry up in order to rush back to the bottlestore.
It was amazing to escape the morning madness of Church Street, go home and make a sarmie for lunch with nothing more taxing in mind than an afternoon snooze. Or to have a leisurely pub lunch while watching the cricket.
I think a pub lunch might be one of the most civilised inventions ever, in a cool pub which appears to be slightly dark but only because it’s so bright outside, with blokes quietly talking business or rugby or Landrover differentials, all punctuated by the “pfffdt” of a beer being opened or the clink of ice cubes in a glass.
And then Doris, the waitress, will come along with your food – steak, egg and chips, curry and rice, fish and chips, bangers and mash, a couple of chops with chips or mash and veg – and a selection of condiments to include Coleman’s English, Tobasco, All Gold tomato, HP, and ‘scuse me, Jimmy, can I have another small Hansa? And, hold on, if you’re having curry and rice, including sambals, Mrs Balls, coconut, sliced banana and even a blinking pappadum, why not!
If you’re on holiday, and the rest of the town is rushing to the bottlestore, elbowing its way down Church Street, trying to attract the eye of a salesperson in Edgars, tapping its foot in the queue at Standard Bank or looking for parking, then another good place to be is Wimpy for a late breakfast, when you are in a position to say, “Ag, Doris, please bring me another cup of Wimpy coffee. No hurry.”
And all the time, if you’ve planned it well, you will have completed all your Christmas shopping, and for two weeks be in a position to avoid every single business except Sophi’s or West End where you’ll pop in to buy milk and bread. If you’re disorganised and suddenly, on the eve of Christmas decide to only then bake your Christmas cake, you might end up following this recipe (which I didn’t compile – it has been around for a while):
Ingredients:
1 cup of water
1 tsp baking soda
1 cup of sugar
1 tsp salt
1 cup of brown sugar
Lemon juice
4 large eggs
Lots of nuts
1 bottle Captain Morgan rum
2 cups of dried fruit
Method:
Sample the rum to check quality. Take a large bowl, check the rum again. To be sure it is the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink.
Repeat.
Turn on the electric mixer. Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl.
Add one teaspoon of sugar. Beat again. At this point it’s best to make sure the rum is shtill OK.
Try another cup …. just in case. Turn off the mixerer.
Break 2 leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.
Pick fruit off floor.
Mix on the turner.
If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers pry it loose with a sdrewscriver.
Sample the rum to check for tonsisticity.
Next, sift two cups of salt. Or something. Who careshz.
Check the rum.
Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts.
Add one table.
Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find.
Greash the oven and wee in the fridge.
Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over.
Don’t forget to beat off the turner.
Finally, throw the bowl through the window, finish the rum.
Fall into bed.
Yep, roll on the holidays, and I don’t even have to make a Christmas cake because the Vryheid Lions Club gave me one. Who’s a lucky boy, mmm?
