bovril schmovril

I have always been the one to poo-poo those South Africans who run to the SA shop every five minutes for something from home.  "What's wrong with Aussie biscuits and cereal?"  I would ask.  They would come out of Kalahari (yes, I kid you not - that is the name of the local stockist) armed with everything from Pronutro to Oros and Corenza C's. 

And then suddenly in my eighth migrant month I wanted biltong so badly it hurt.  I braced myself for the onslaught of Afrikaans country music and crossed over the boerewors threshold for my supply.  And I have to say, it was damn good.  The boys tucked in with relish and really enjoyed the taste of home.  I could even do the Rand conversion without sucking in air between my teeth at $45 per kilo.  After that little detour I felt quite back on track for Australian life and headed to the Anzac biscuit isle with new confidence.

Then I hit the ninth month and my craving for Mavis' samp and beans became my constant companion.  Back I went for the dried out samp (no beans) from Kalahari and after one false start and a burned pot, I cooked up a storm.  Given that I had really never made gnushi before I thought it was pretty good but all it did was make the boys miss Mama Mavis.

"This is absolute nonsense," I told myself two days ago and well into our tenth month.  Then a mum at school mentioned that she had just eaten Bovril toast!  I all but attacked her to find out where she had bought that pot of black gold.  As it turns out Bovril has been lurking in the supermarkets all this time just hiding with the gravies and stocks.  As my friend, Gail (an ex Zimbabwean), pointed out:  it is just us colonials who got it wrong and spread it on toast.  Bovril is actually a stock.  Well, my life has gone on in fits and starts since that moment with the taste of Bovril cloying at my brain and saliva.  I gave in this morning and acquired a little glass tub.  It was sheer heaven!  Who would have thought that Bovril could taste so good after a year of deprivation?

So I confess to needing some home comforts.  It is strange what brands and flavours are part of your very fibre because of your past.  It's an unravelling process that may never reach the end of the rope.  It's a taste of yesterday, a glimpse of youth.

And I am not even pregnant.

what's going on?

I seem to have lost myself in this void of domestic chores, DIY and three boys' lives.  I haven't grabbed a moment to blog since Granny and Grampa left and I have missed the therapy of writing.

So where have I been?  Every spare minute has been put to painting endless window frames and skirting boards to avoid the going rate of $300 a day for someone else to do it.  I have hit the wall a bit (in more ways than one!) and called in some help for the next three days.  Phil has now taken up where I left off and our new tri-fold doors are magically changing from raw wood to white enamel without me ripping my trousers or painting my hair.  What a relief.  I did, however, force myself to do the TV lounge skirting before I earned the right to sit here with my cuppa. 

Then there has also been the rugby tournament on Saturday at our home club where Adam played two matches and Russell played one.  We should have quit while we were ahead and skipped out of there at midday but we chose to stop at the enormous jumping castle for a bounce and Russell twisted his ankle quite badly.  He is now strapped up and hobbling woefully around.

We are so excited about the fact that our house looks almost normal that we have spent the last two weekends entertaining flat out.  No less than five other families have had a meal here in the last 10 days and it has been such fun to be back in that mode.

It goes without saying that the usual dross of housework caught up with me while we were having fun with our visitors so I have been moving furniture and spring cleaning like crazy.  I have finally moved Adam into his own room and have been sorting out all the boys' winter clothes as the season changes.  It is a shock to see how much they have all grown in a year.

I am back at my ladies bible study group every second Thursday and am really enjoying the people and the message.

I am addicted to Masterchef Australia Season 2 and justify an hour 5 days a week watching this show by using the time to do the ironing.  It is a show stopper which has our whole family enthralled and is playing havoc with our bed time routine.

And then there is the endless tasks of choosing light fittings, deciding on building finishes, looking for bathroom taps and vanities and arranging various tradesmen and their invoices.  Our garage plans have now been approved by the local council and we are going ahead as soon as we can get the builder back in about three weeks.  Our study and walk in robes are almost complete and next weekend we will be able to paint and build cupboards.  Our en suite and laundry are our next priority and the floor for the laundry will go down this week.  It is all very exciting and starting to look fantastic.

Whenever we can, Hugo and I get out for a ride on our two-person bike and we both really enjoy that time together.  I run as often as I can and am enjoying the fact that the weather allows for a later run now.

We are fast approaching our first anniversary in Australia.  Every word of this blog has helped me to stop for a minute and to keep in touch with all our emotions as we step forward daily.  It has been, and still is, an amazing journey of self discovery.  Some things have been unbloggable.  This year has had us on our knees and in tears.  It has also allowed us to count our blessings.  We have come a long way...

take off

Our first visitors have left us.  Rob has just taken his parents to the airport.  It's rather quiet here and a bit weird.  This photo was taken today in our front yard - a snapshot of the moment to remember how we all looked when we saw them last.  Who knows when we will be together again?

What a great month we have all had.  The boys are especially sad to see their grandparents return home.  But now we must pick up our lives and carry on our chosen paths with great memories in our hearts.

I wonder who will be our next very welcome guests.







Hugo is 4!!

Yesterday was Hugo's very happy birthday!  He really is a big boy now and trying very hard to keep up with his brothers.  He has taken the trainer wheels off his bike and is riding solo (albeit with limited confidence) and is larger than life.  He really is quite full on compared to Russell and Adam and has energy levels that are unprecedented.  He will jump from any height, run the longest race, swim out in the deep sea and swallow big gulps of life.

To assist him to keep up with us we have given him a tag along bike.  He sits on his own saddle with his own handle bars and pedals but only has one wheel under him.  The bike is attached to my bike under my saddle and we cycle together.  He loves it and the faster I ride, the more he whoops with delight.  It is a great way to give a child road sense and confidence and an easy way to get out for a ride at my pace and have a workout.  Yesterday we dropped the boys at school and then rode around the bridges for about 10km.  It was great fun.

Granny and Grampa went along to the city yesterday and met up with Rob for a lunch in Kings Park at a fabulous play area.  It was a special outing for only Hugo as he didn't have a school day.  After the brothers came home we had cake and candles.  He was very happy to receive Lego for big boys too.

Wow, the time has flown.  There really are no more babies in the house.  The up side is they can all dress themselves, brush their own teeth and wipe their own bums!  The down side is that three big boys make a lot of noise and are quite wild together.  There are few quiet games here and usually some extra boys on the scene.  The food piles disappear fast and the days are a whirlwind of activity.

Here's to Hugo.  May he be blessed this year.

rugby

Russell and Adam are both committed rugby players this season.  They refused to be swayed by peer pressure to play Auskick which is the dominant winter sport on the west coast.  Rugby Union is not big here in Perth.  AFL Aussie rules football is all the rage.  I am still struggling to fine tune my rugby rules and cannot possibly try to learn a completely new game so I am really happy with the boys' choice.  From what I can gather from dinner table talk, Aus Rules is all about passing forward by punching the ball and doing lots of kicking.  There isn't much control to the game and the injuries are rife.  There is a huge following here and the two local teams are the Fremantle Dockers and the West Coast Eagles.  Our family is split down the middle when it comes to cheering on a team but overall we are far more interested in the rugby results.

Adam is just getting into the game and hasn't quite worked out what is required of him.  He is one of the bees who swarms around the ball and is only allowed to tag, no tackling.  He is getting a workout and having great fun experiencing being on a team.  His issued uniform is over sized to say the least and he looks terribly cute out there with a gum guard grin.

Russell is flyhalf and is absolutely loving his game now.  It is a bit more serious at U9 level with tackling, line outs, scrumming, and positional play.  Russell takes it all as seriously as a flyhalf should and is right in the action all the time. 

So it's Pally (or Palmyra rugby club) all the way.  I even had to put a supporter's sticker on my car.  Every Thursday from 5-6pm we are down at the club for training and Saturday mornings you will find us out at matches.  The migrants from the UK, New Zealand and South Africa all flock to the rugby clubs.  Adam's team of 10 players comprises of 8 South Africans!  His team manager is a South African and most of their opponents seem to be South Africans too!  From U9 up to U12 all the coaches are South Africans and many of the players are too.  It is quite weird as it feels just like the side of the SACS field without my dearest Cape Town friends.

This weekend the Western Force take on the Brumbies in Perth and I think we should take our little players to see what real rugby is all about.

split end

Yesterday I had one of those defining moments as an adult.  This post is not for sensitive readers and could be deemed x-rated.  And it is the gospel truth. 

I put on my VERY old painting jeans to get down and paint the new skirting boards in the living areas.  The jeans are the very same pair that painted the Kildare playground three years in a row.  They have carried me through some tough jobs and have the paint stains to prove it.  I spent a rewarding morning moving around the room transforming those little boards before having to do a quick clean up and head for the supermarket just before school pick up.

After about 15 minutes of shopping and at least 5 aisles later, my hand brushed past my behind and felt flesh!  Alarmed I conducted a more thorough investigation with my hands only to discover that my trusty old jeans had split from the waist to the nether regions and my entire bum was sticking out of my pants!  And yes, you guessed it - I was wearing a g-string.  Now, lesser women would have abandoned the half-filled trolley and bolted for the door, but not me.  I just couldn't bear the thought of wasting another hour doing this all again so I prudently hooked the thumb of my right hand into the seam of my t-shirt and yanked it down as far as possible before continuing my shopping with one hand on the trolley and keeping as close to the shelves as possible.  I grabbed the few remaining items that I could think of in my turmoil and headed, red faced to the tills.  I carefully slid the groceries on to the conveyor belt with my back and exposed derriere pushed up against the shelf before quickly paying and leaving.  There was a moment where I considered grabbing a plastic bag to cover myself but thought better of it.  I went from praying I wouldn't run into anyone I knew to wishing that I would, and the unlikely chance that they would have a big sweater around their shoulders.

From the check out I decided to make a run for it and sprinted to my car, unpacked with my back to the blushing vehicle and collapsed into the driver's seat in hysterical fits of laughter.

Once home and safely inside, having dodged the builders stares, I confirmed my worst fears in my full length mirror and then shared the joke with the oldies.  I figured most of the mall had seen my butt so why not show it to my father in-law too.  Needless to say, the laugh was on me.

This is good.  Ten years ago I wouldn't have been able to share this.  Now I can blog about it.  I have come a long way.                      

mothers' day

Rob's mum

Mine started on Friday with a pampering session by the Grade 1 class!  All the mums were invited to school where the Grade 1 block had been converted into a beauty salon.  We had our feet washed and massaged with lotion, our hair brushed and our nails painted - all by our gorgeous little ones.  What fun!  Adam painted both my hands and feet in a glittery clear polish which is still on - this was my choice as there was more margin for error than the bright colours on offer. 

After the pampering we shared tea and cake and spent some time going through his school books.

Today started with breakfast in bed by my men and then a lovely picnic at Kings Park with our friends, Debbie and Ivan and their boys.  The sun shone on our outing and enticed the greater part of Perth's population to join us.  The boys had such fun playing cricket and running around the play areas.  We relaxed under a tree and enjoyed some R&R.

We were very blessed this year to have at least one of our mothers with us to celebrate and I really miss my mum today.  Mothering is a tough job that can be thankless at times and overwhelming.  Sometimes the responsibility of turning good men into the world is daunting.  They test me and I have to hold firm.  They fall and I am supposed to catch them or at least kiss the wounds.  They struggle and I have to help.  They ask and I have to have an answer.  They call and expect a reply.  They hug and kiss me and it is all worthwhile. 

Rob and I are still learning how much our mums have done for us over the years as our family grows and the demands change.  We are so grateful. 

step by step

I am so close to showing you my living area, but not just yet.  It's about a week away from being presentable!  The beautiful floors are in and the skirtings are on.  The last Tri-fold door arrived and has been fitted.  The cornice is in the entrance hall and the walls have been plastered to remove the stipples.  The TV lounge doors now have translucent glass and it's all melting together.

This weekend we will tackle the wall priming and painting then it's hanging curtain rails, curtains and pictures.  It is going to be lovely just in time for a cosy winter.  I have my beady eye on a free standing fireplace but need to stretch the spreadsheet to fit it on the budget.  That will really complete the picture.

Decorating the entrance hall and hanging all our art is going to be the really fun part.  We still need to find the perfect light fitting to dazzle our guests on arrival.  There are finishing touches to be added everywhere. 

I'm still tripping over builders but at least they are fun to have around.  We are a lethal team:  one Aussie, one Brit and a South African.  The boys reluctantly went back to school today which frees up a bit of time so the project can now continue.

Just wait, I am going to show it to you soon.

never enough

We just can't get enough of the breath taking views and endless white beaches of the Margaret River region.  So with our first Cape Town visitors here, we grabbed the opportunity to head down south AGAIN and show off some of the landscape.  The sun shone on our visit and we even swam in the ocean - not bad for the first day of May!

As it turns out, John has relatives (from his first marriage) who have pioneered the protea farming industry in Western Australia and we spent a full day going from one farm to the next meeting all the "rellies".  It was great fun and we have broken new ground for future country visits.  How fortunate to have step rellies who own magestic protea farms in one of our favourite regions.  Rob remembers them all from his teenage years and really enjoyed catching up.  Our boys took to the farm life and were off on mountain bikes, quad bikes and running in the fields. 

We did, of course, stop our activities to watch Kate become a princess.  I really enjoyed the whole event and got totally carried away in the Fairy Tale moment.  Now it's back to the reality of life in Australia with a full house and builders under foot - no princess here!

they're back

It's weird but the doppelgangers are back.  I haven't seen any of them for the longest time and now suddenly they are everywhere.  Having Viv and John here has sparked so many memories and discussions about people in Cape Town that my mind is in a spin.  Just last week I saw Shirley Bales, Inka Brooks and Julie Plaistowe on the river path while out running.  I have approached Loraine Codd and Julie Hodgson in the supermarket only to find it's not them.  I find myself being confused about acquaintances, like mums from school.  I can't work out if I know them from here or there.

It has been good therapy to have visitors from Cape Town.  It's an affirmation that things still stay the same after you leave and you can always return.  A friend commented on "something from the old country" which made us laugh but it is what it is.  We are making this our home.  Who knows where life will take us next, but for now, this is home.

There are deep seated emotions in one's subconscious related to a move of these proportions.  We are moving forward, but our minds need to play catch up some days. 

It would be so good to see you for real on the path.  I would stop and give you the longest hug.